


Protect and Serve

by DeathBelle



Series: Protect and Serve [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Homosexuality, M/M, Police, Shame, Slow Build, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 108,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger has a secret, one that is tearing him apart. Alcohol is the only thing that is holding him together, and it is breaking him in an entirely different way. When he meets Levi, he feels that he has maybe found someone who can help piece him back together. The problem is that Eren is certain Levi will abandon him as soon as he learns the source of Eren's poisonous shame.</p><p>Jean Kirschtein has been a police officer for years. He's trained several recruits, but there is something different about Marco Bodt. He begins to have strange feelings toward his new partner, feelings that he is ruthlessly ashamed of. One night after a few too many drinks things get a little out of hand and Jean can't even look at Marco. He has no idea how he's supposed to continue working with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Not much happens in the first couple of chapters. They're mostly for intro purposes. It's starting out Ereri but eventually the JeanMarco storyline will intertwine. I'm planning to update every Friday. I'm currently at 23 chapters and will have quite a few more than that; they tend to lengthen as the story progresses. This is the first fic I've posted on AO3, so if I've made any mistakes with my tags please let me know. The rating will change to explicit when certain chapters are reached.

Eren’s mouth was full of blood. It was thick, cloying, nauseating. He tried to swallow and it slid down his throat, hot and wet and metallic. He gagged on it, spat a mouthful onto the floor. More blood started to drip through his lips and he pressed them closed, redirecting the scarlet stream over his chin. There was blood everywhere. It was on his face, on his shirt, in his hair, all of it his. The blood sprayed across his knuckles, though, was not.  


The man with the bloody nose swung again, and this time Eren went down. He’d taken quite a few hits, more than he normally would have been capable of enduring. His level of intoxication had numbed him to much of the fight. When he fell, though, he felt the solid impact of the floor, felt the air leave his lungs. The man drew back his leg, and then Eren felt a boot slam into his ribs.  


Eren gasped, curling into a ball to protect himself. He flung his arms over his head just in time to stop a second kick from connecting with his face.  
The man standing over him was undeterred. He kept kicking, each point of contact another sharp flash of agony. Eren had gathered another mouthful of blood. He choked on it, and his coughing made the pain twice as bad.  


The blows stopped. Eren lowered the wall of his arms and coughed blood onto the floor. As soon as his airway was clear he was hefted off of the ground, two fists balled tightly in the front of his shirt. His back was slammed into a wall and he couldn’t breathe all over again. His toes scraped the floor as he struggled.  


“Fucking kid,” the man growled in his face. His breath reeked of booze, but Eren’s was no better. “Don’t pick fights you can’t win.” They were the same height, but only because Eren was being held a few inches off of the ground. The other man was taller, stronger, and outright meaner, but that wasn’t for a lack of trying on Eren’s part.  


He flailed around more desperately and managed to throw a foot into the other man’s gut. The only effect was that he was slammed against the wall again. The back of his head bashed into the wall and his vision flickered.  


Maybe this was finally it. He had done this so many times in so many bars but had managed to walk away from every fight. Maybe this would be the last one, the one that would put him out of his misery.  


Eren honestly hoped it was.  


“Hey, put the kid down.”  


Eren’s sight was still blurred, so he couldn’t see the source of the voice. He couldn’t muster up the will to care. He was released and he crumpled to the floor, a drunk, bloody disaster. From somewhere above him the voices continued, barely reaching him through the thick cotton dampening his senses.  


“Mind your own business, you little prick,” came the rumbling bass of the man with Eren’s blood on his hands. “What’s he to you?”  


“Nothing,” said the other voice disdainfully. “He looks like a little shit. All the same, I find it’s best to not beat someone to death for being drunk and stupid. If that was the case then you would be in the same state that he’s in.”  


“Was that a threat?” demanded the deeper voice. “You’re so short you could suck my dick without getting on your knees.”  


“Are you flirting with me?” asked the other, his tone one of boredom. “I’m flattered.”  


Eren was unaware of what happened after that. There were sounds of scuffling and cursing, and then a noise that wasn’t loud, but Eren actually felt it. He cracked his eyes open to find the big man lying on the floor, out cold.  


Eren craned his head to try and find the one to whom the other voice belonged, but there was no one close. The other patrons of the bar were at a safe distance, some of them staring at him, others eyeing something at the counter that cut across the side of the room. Dizzily, Eren followed their gazes and found the source of the attention. A man leaned against the bar, talking to the bartender in a low, clipped voice that Eren could barely hear.  


“…should be fine. Call an ambulance for the other one, though, he’s in pretty rough shape.”  


It took Eren a minute longer than it should have to realize the man was talking about him. When the word ‘ambulance’ actually registered, he made himself move. It hurt everywhere, but it wasn’t the worst thing that he’d ever been through. He crawled to the wall and used it to drag himself upright, keeping both hands on it for support.  


The floor lurched, and he suspected an earthquake. He waited it out, but it never faded, so he started walking anyway. He stumbled, almost hit the floor again, but miraculously remained upright.  


The man at the counter turned to watch his sloppy progress with detached disinterest. “Just sit down, kid,” he said. “The paramedics are on their way.”  


Eren told him that he didn’t need medical attention; at least, that’s what he tried to say. The words came out in a messy jumble. He continued his trek across the room, which was now ten times larger than it had been when he’d entered. Each step seemed to drag him farther from the door rather than nearer. The room spun, a whirlwind of dull, muted colors.  


“Don’t be stupid.”  


A hand gripped his arm, holding him back. Despite his imbalance Eren turned and swung, his fist missing the target by nearly a foot. The misplaced momentum took him back to the ground, the force of the impact almost knocking him unconscious.  


A voice dulled by static floated to him, his mind barely comprehending the fuzzy words.  


“The police are on their way, Levi. They’ll get here before the ambulance, so you have about five minutes to get out.”  


“Alright, thanks, Eld.”  


That voice was directly above Eren, but he hardly took note of it. Though the warning from across the room had not been for him, he reacted. He rolled onto his side, spat another wad of bloody saliva onto the floor, and started crawling toward the door. The pain was bad, but luckily he’d had a few last minute shots before the fight had started and they muted much of it.  


The effort that it took Eren to reach the door was the equivalent of scaling Everest. Once at the top of the mountain, though, he was forced to climb a little higher. Clumsy hands gripped the wooden frame and he dragged himself up, his legs reluctantly supporting his weight.  


“You really should wait for the medics.” It was the voice again, just behind him. “You have a concussion.”  


“Fuck you,” said Eren, the two words slurring into one angry profanity. “You gonna stop me?”  


There was no reply, no return of the hand that had previously tried to hold him back.  


Eren tried to open the door three times before he succeeded. He staggered outside, not noticing that the temperature plunged once he was free of the bar’s central heating. He didn’t look back and didn’t think twice about taking off at a loping, unsteady run through the parking lot. His thigh clipped the bumper of a Volkswagen. He spun, toppled, and kept himself on his feet by grabbing the wide mirror of the Hummer in the adjacent parking spot.  


The sound of a siren pealed in the distance. He assumed it was approaching from the west, where the station was. He assumed that there were two officers riding in the car, and that if their partner unit wasn’t busy they would be there for backup shortly. He assumed that the sirens would be turned off a couple of blocks before they arrived, and that he needed to be gone by then.  


Even in his drunken stupor he could reason through these things, because they were all he ever thought about. If he’d tried he could have regurgitated the names of the officers on shift that night, their rank, and their assigned zone in the city.  


Unfortunately, even inebriated nearly to the point of blacking out, Eren wasn’t drunk enough to expel such things from his mind. Those thoughts were the reason he was hammered that night, and all the nights that had come before. He made it out of the parking lot and lurched as quickly down an adjacent alleyway as his current state would allow, keeping one hand along the brick wall for stability.  


Levi stood just outside the door of the bar, watching the bloody wreck of a kid disappear around the corner. He left a spatter of blood behind like a trail of bread crumbs, but Levi figured it would dwindle away before the police actually caught up to him. He’d seemed determined to avoid any attention, medical or law enforcement. Levi could relate, although he was quite certain it was for a different reason.  


He heard the wail of sirens die off, the leftover echo fading a few seconds behind. He raised the collar of his jacket to shield his neck against the bite of the wind. Before the police cruiser swung into the parking lot, topped with coruscating blue lights, he was long gone.


	2. Normal

Eren woke up a few hours later and wished that he’d never woken up at all. He peeled himself away from the bed of trash bags he’d collapsed onto and groaned. Judging from the smell of souring food there was probably a restaurant that opened into the alley he was in through a back door. Apparently whoever had worked the night before hadn’t bothered tossing their trash into the dumpster, instead piling the plump black bags in a heap that Eren had fallen into.  


The stench of old food made Eren gag. When he sat up, he realized he’d already thrown up while he was passed out. He used his sleeve to wipe as much vomit off of his face as he could.  


Morning had barely arrived, the lightening sky suggesting it was around seven o’clock. Eren dragged himself to his feet and, before even taking a step, realized he was still inebriated. That didn’t bother him; he was used to it. The pain of moving after the bar fight didn’t bother him; he was used to that, too. What made him groan was the knowledge that his mind was beginning to clear. Without the fog of alcohol his thoughts would creep back in, sharp-edged wolves closing in on their prey. He was the prey, he always was.  


Stumbling a bit, he made his way to the end of the alley and squinted at the nearest street sign. Even in his drunken stupor he had gone in the right direction, making it two blocks from home before passing out. Ignoring the stares of the commuters passing him on the street, he trudged along the sidewalks, resigning himself to the dull throb setting in just behind his eyes.  


It wasn’t until he reached the door of the correct apartment that he realized he’d forgotten to check the parking lot on his way up. It wasn’t in view from where he was standing, so there was no way to tell if his sister had left for work yet since he didn’t know the time. Maybe it was a weekend and she was off for the day. He really couldn’t remember.  


Hoping that the place was vacant, he clumsily fitted his key into the deadbolt and twisted. The door swung open and he staggered inside less subtly than he would have liked. He stood just past the threshold, listening for movement. There was nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started forward, tripped over the edge of a rug, and found himself lying face down on the floor. He groaned but accepted it, curling up with the intention of passing out again.  


“Eren?” the voice was too loud, too close.  


The unintelligible sound that he made in response was one of disappointment. She should have been gone. Why couldn’t she have just been gone?  


Something warm pressed against his forehead. He pried his eyes open to find Mikasa kneeling beside him, her hand pressed against his face.  


“Eren,” she repeated, this time more softly. The disapproval on her face was so potent that Eren shut his eyes again, unwilling to imagine how his sister now felt about him. They used to be close, two sides of the same coin. Now they could barely exist in the same room.  


It wasn’t Mikasa’s fault; Eren knew that. It was him. Everything was him. She had accepted him into her home when he had lost his. She had fed him when he had no money to feed himself. She had cleaned up his messes and tucked him into bed when he was so sick from hangovers that he couldn’t function.  


She had done everything for him, and this was how he was thanking her. This was how he repaid her kindness, by ending up on the floor again. He was ashamed of himself, but knew that it would make no difference. It was only a matter of time before it happened again.  


“You need to get cleaned up,” she said, keeping her voice low. Eren’s emerging headache was grateful for her consideration. “Can you make it to the bathroom?”  


“Just leave me here,” Eren mumbled, burying his face in his arms. “I don’t want to move. Just leave me.”  


“Eren, no. You can’t just lie in the floor all day. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, alright?”  


Eren lifted his eyelids again, his foggy brain working just enough to inform him that Mikasa was dressed for work; white blouse, black pencil skirt, high heels that had been discarded a short distance away.  


“Go to work,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’m fine. Promise.”  


“You know I can’t leave you like this.”  


“Sure you can,” he said. His words were almost normal, only slurring softly at the edges. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. You can’t miss any more days.”  


He heard Mikasa sigh. She knew he was right. Since Eren had moved in all of her vacation time had dried up, leaving her with a shallow puddle consisting of a couple of hours’ leave. She couldn’t afford to not show up.  


“I’ll call Armin,” she said, pressing her palm against his face before standing. “He’ll come over.”  


“Don’t worry about it,” said Eren. “Just leave me here.”  


He watched her bare feet pace away before his eyes fluttered closed, more heavily this time. He was almost dozing as Mikasa spoke in the next room, her words overshadowed by the complaints of his own body. When he opened them again there was a different face peering into his, one that was no less familiar.  


“Hey, you’re awake,” came a slightly deeper voice than Mikasa’s. “I’ll help you get up, okay?”  


“Don’t want to.”  


“I know.” The face hovering over him was framed with chin-length blonde hair. It swayed with every movement and Eren found himself getting nauseous again as he watched it. “You need to do it anyway, alright?”  


Eren pressed his hands over his eyes and nodded. Together, he and Armin managed to get him on his feet. The effort was mostly Armin. Eren found himself in the bathroom, thankful that he’d gotten up after all because a moment later he was hunched over the toilet, heaving so hard that made his ribs feel like they were about to crack into pieces.  


A soothing hand was on his shoulder, a sympathetic voice swimming into his ear. It was nice for Armin to care, it was nice for him to be there, but Eren would have rather been left alone. Everything was easier that way.  


He had known Armin since kindergarten, where they had become fast friends immediately. Unlike most childhood friendships, theirs had never faded. Time only forged them together more tightly. When Eren’s parents had died, Armin had spent every free moment with him. When Armin’s grandfather had passed, Eren returned the favor. They had smoked their first cigarette together, gotten drunk for the first time together, enrolled in college together. That was where their interests began to split, but their friendship never did.  


When the worst had happened and Eren’s life had fallen into ruin, Armin had been there for him. At first Eren had been grateful. Now it just made him sick thinking about all the time his friend had invested in him, because this time friendship couldn’t fix it. Nothing could fix it, and time spent trying was time wasted.  


When Eren’s stomach stopped rebelling, Armin stripped off his bloody clothes, sat him in the shower floor, and turned on the hot water. It rained down in scalding droplets and Eren just sat, soaking. He stared at the white shower floor. As the water cleansed him, swirls of crimson curled down the drain, evidence of the fight that was already a hazy memory. He knew there would be more evidence on his face, but he wasn’t concerned. It was now common for him to sport a busted lip or a black eye. He hardly even noticed anymore.  


He extended his hands into the descending stream and watched the dried blood filter away from his knuckles. Without the crusty coating they were swollen and ragged, his right hand busted up a little more than the left. He clenched his hands into fists and it hurt. He released the tension and then did it again.  


Eren didn’t know how much time had passed when Armin turned off the water, helped Eren to his feet, and started toweling him off. Time didn’t hold much meaning for Eren anymore. He knew day and night, but everything in between was just an unnecessary detail.  


He stood as still as he could manage as Armin dried him, feeling no embarrassment about being bare in front of his friend. Armin knew everything about him, and if he hadn’t been bothered by the darker things, then a little nudity certainly wasn’t going to give him any discomfort.  


Aided by Armin, Eren dressed in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt before being escorted to the bed. Armin must have decided that he deserved to sleep comfortably, even though the only bedroom in the apartment was Mikasa’s. Since Eren had moved in he had slept on the couch.  


Too exhausted to complain, Eren slumped into the white, crisp sheets. He pushed Mikasa’s pillow out of the way before lying on his side, his knees pulled up to his chest. Armin positioned a pillow at Eren’s back to keep him from rolling. If he turned onto his back and vomited in his sleep he would choke on it.  


“I need a drink,” Eren murmured as Armin pulled the sheets up to his chin. Eren nestled in, comfortable despite the pain in his ribs and the ache in his head.  


“No, you really don’t,” said Armin. “What you need is sleep. You’ll be fine, when you wake up you’ll feel better.”  


Enough of his drunkenness had faded for Eren to notice the wording his friend had used. ‘You’ll you feel better’, as if Eren was only sick. ‘Feel better’, as if Eren would wake up and be normal again.  


He didn’t remember what normal was anymore. Months had passed. Maybe this was his new normal. He would be this way until he died, and he hoped it was sooner rather than later.  


When Eren started to doze, Armin left him alone and stretched out on the couch. Eren had been too unfocused to notice that Armin was still in his work clothes from the graveyard shift he had just finished, or the dark circles that ringed his pale eyes.  


Armin bit down on a yawn and sent a short text to Mikasa, informing her that Eren was okay. Objectively he was a disaster, but for Eren it was normal. His new normal; he hadn’t always been that way. Once he had been vibrant, extroverted, ambitious. Now he was just a shell of himself, ghosting through life like he was dead already. Armin mourned the friend that he had lost, but he had done everything he could think of to fix him, and nothing had worked. He didn’t think anything would work.  


Wearily he yanked the folded blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over himself. He toed his shoes off, nestled into the leather cushions, and drifted into sleep.


	3. Dinner

Hours passed before Eren finally stirred. He was still half-asleep when he reached upward into a full body stretch. As the motion pulled at his sore muscles, the pain roused him into full consciousness.  


“Fuck,” he hissed, the word slipping from between gritted teeth. He sat up and folded over, arms wrapped around his midsection, as if holding himself together. As bad as his body hurt, his head was much worse. It was like an ice pick had been embedded in his skull, right between his eyes. It was his typical hangover headache, but no matter how many times it affected him, it was never more bearable.  


Secondary to the pain, he realized that he was about ten seconds away from pissing all over himself. For Mikasa’s sake rather than his own, he crawled out of his sister’s bed, wincing as his feet hit the ground. An awkward shuffle carried him across the room. He pushed the door open and emerged, still half hunched over, his posture that of an elderly man rather than one in his twenties.  


“Eren?”  


It was Mikasa’s voice this time, weighed down with concern. He must have slept longer than he’d thought. She was already back from work.  
“Eren, what’s wrong?”  


“Nothing,” he said, continuing to the bathroom without pausing. “I’m fine, just… bathroom.”  


He flung the door shut, shoved his sweatpants halfway down his hips, and relieved himself with a sigh. After flushing he stood over the toilet for another minute, waiting to see if his lingering nausea would result in more vomiting. When the urge didn’t arise, he emerged back into the living room.  


Mikasa was in the kitchen, which could have been considered the same space as the living room. There were no barriers separating the two.  


Eren slumped onto the couch, his legs already tired of holding him up.  


Against his will a fleeting memory emerged. It was from a year before, at the gym on the other side of town. Sweat had soaked his hair and his shirt, dripping onto the padded floor. A dumbbell rested across his shoulders, pressing him into the ground as he squatted beneath the burden, his legs supporting the two hundred pounds that weighed down the bar.  


He had been in shape then, fit enough to be among the well-toned men at the gym who wore sleeveless shirts with the side seams slitted, exposing the muscles that rippled beneath. A year ago, Eren had been living with a purpose.  


Now he was nothing.  


He shook his head to expel the thought, but it didn’t help. What he needed was a drink, a strong one. Several of them.  


“Are you cooking?” he asked, though the pots simmering on the stove rendered the question unnecessary.  


“Yes,” his sister answered. “Brown chicken and rice. I’m using the seasoning that you like.”  


Eren’s stomach was hollow. He knew he was hungry, but if he ate he might vomit again. Missing a meal had become fairly typical for him, but he didn’t want to shun the food that Mikasa had made for him. He owed her that much at least.  


“Good,” he said, “it’s one of my favorites.”  


She nodded. “I made quite a bit. There should be enough for all three of us.”  


Though Eren couldn’t muster the energy to sit instead of slouching, his body went stiff. “So you mean Armin is coming over?” he asked. He knew what her answer would be, but he could hope. Please let it be Armin.  


“Armin is working,” said Mikasa. “He spent the day sleeping on the couch in case you had a seizure or went into cardiac arrest or whatever it is that happens when someone suffers too much head trauma.”  


“I’m fine,” said Eren. It had become his mantra, something he said when there was nothing else to say. It only worked for other people, though. He never said it to himself. That would be pointless. Lying to himself had never worked. “Please don’t tell me _he’s_ coming over.”  


Mikasa was one of the calmest people that Eren had ever seen. She seldom showed any emotions other than concern for his wellbeing. She was always collected, even-tempered, and understanding.  


This made the dread in the pit of Eren’s stomach even heavier as she slowly placed a wooden spoon over a steaming pot and turned, her face so hard that it could cut a diamond.  


“Yes, he is coming over.” Her voice was low, not rising above her normal speaking volume. The tone, though, was what made Eren sink back even further into the sofa. It was ice and steel, cold enough to steal his breath. “He is the only friend I have left. He is the only person who understands why I can never go out, why I am always stuck at home. He is the only person who understands why I am sacrificing my personal life for my little brother who can’t go two days without drinking himself into a near coma. He is the only person who has been there for me. He will come over whenever I want him to and you will say nothing about it. Not a single word.”  


Her glare remained for a long moment as she waited for Eren to respond. He shifted his own gaze downward toward the floor. Mikasa returned to cooking, moving more rigidly than she had been before.  


On the couch, Eren tried to let the reprimand bounce off of him. It didn’t work. He knew he was a problem. He knew he was a burden. He knew he should leave and give his sister her life back, but he had nowhere to go. He had nothing.  


Mikasa had started setting the table by the time he looked up. There were plates in front of three of the four chairs, centered perfectly and flanked by carefully arranged silverware. She placed wine glasses in front of two of the chairs; the third was completed with a glass of water.  


Eren knew which seat he had been assigned.  


“Mikasa, I’m sorry.” She didn’t stop preparing the kitchen, so he continued speaking anyway. “I won’t say anything to Mike, I promise.”  


She didn’t respond. He knew she had heard the apology, though, so that would have to suffice.  


There was a soft knock at the door. Mikasa’s quick glance was as clear as a verbal command.  


Compliantly, Eren hoisted himself off of the couch. He was fairly steady as he crossed the room, and the floor didn’t waver at all beneath his feet. A half dozen shots would fix that. They would fix everything, for a while.  


He opened the door and stepped back without offering a greeting or an invitation. Undeterred, Mike stepped inside, half smiling when he found Mikasa standing over the stove.  


Eren scowled at the handful of flowers clutched in the taller man’s hand. They were white lilies, Mikasa’s favorite. He wanted to slap them out of Mike’s grasp but refrained, instead trudging to the table and dropping into his designated chair.  


Mike removed his coat and folded it neatly over the back of the couch. That only made Eren’s scowl deepen. Beneath the outerwear was a sleek handgun positioned on Mike’s hip, paired with a silver badge clipped on his belt. Eren bit back his comments, but only for Mikasa’s sake. They already knew that Mike was an investigator; there was no need for him to show off. He could have left the gun in his car instead of dragging it around with him. It probably made him feel important.  


Mike inhaled as he stepped across the nonexistent barrier into the kitchen. “Smells good,” he said, receiving a small nod of acknowledgement from Mikasa. He opened the cabinet beside the dishwasher and retrieved a tall glass vase. Mike half filled it with water from the sink and dropped the lilies into the vase, setting it on the table as the centerpiece for the meal.  


Eren frowned at the flowers, uncomfortable with how familiar Mike was with the apartment. He hadn’t even known that the vase was there. Mike had obviously been spending too much time with his sister. Eren thought it should stop, and quickly.  


“Hello, Eren,” offered Mike. He towered over Eren where he sat at the table. Even if Eren had been standing the other man would have still scraped a foot taller. Eren didn’t like that about him, either.  


“Mike,” said Eren, refusing to return the greeting. The only reason he said anything at all was because he could feel Mikasa’s glare from across the kitchen.  


“Rough night?” said Mike.  


It sounded conversational, almost compassionate, but Eren knew that Mike was mocking him.  


“No, it was peachy,” he said flatly.  


“Mike, could you help me with this, please?” said Mikasa, effectively separating the two. As she and Mike finished up the meal, Eren sat with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, wishing he’d stayed in bed.  


A spoonful of rice was tipped onto his plate, followed by a pile of steaming chicken and a drizzle of the sauce that Mikasa had made specifically for him. A firm grip circled his wrist and a pair of pills was dropped into his palm. Mikasa nudged the glass of water closer to him before beginning to fill Mike’s plate.  


Eren studied the pills. Ibuprofen. It would only dull the sharp edges of his headache, not erase it completely. Still, a little improvement was better than nothing. He tossed the pills into his mouth and chased them with a gulp of water, only realizing how dry his throat was as the liquid snaked its way down.  


“The lilies are lovely, Mike,” said Mikasa. “Thank you.”  


As the two of them started eating, Eren stared sullenly at his plate. After a few minutes his hunger outweighed his nausea and he scooped up a small bite. When his stomach didn’t immediately heave he began eating in earnest, only then realizing that he hadn’t consumed anything aside from alcohol in over twenty-four hours.  


“This is really good, Mikasa,” he said, his mood slightly improving.  


“I agree,” said Mike. “It’s delicious.”  


That grounded whatever positivity Eren had felt.  


“How was work today, Mikasa?” asked Mike.  


“It was okay,” she answered, spearing a bite of chicken. “I had to attend court for a few of our cases, but it wasn’t terrible.”  


Mikasa worked for a law firm, the most prestigious one in the city. She wasn’t a lawyer. She could have been if she’d chosen to attend law school a few years prior when she’d had the opportunity. Instead she was satisfied doing the firm’s paperwork, serving as their top paralegal.  


That was how she’d met Mike. Eren wished she’d chosen a different career path.  


The two of them made small talk for a while. Mike talked about the case he was working on, but vaguely. He wasn’t allowed to reveal many details due to confidentiality rules. Eren scoffed at that.  


“Debra mentioned you today,” said Mike, drawing Eren into the conversation. “She asked how you were doing.”  


“Yeah?” said Eren. “I guess you told her I was a worthless slob who threw away his future, right?”  


Anger flared in Mikasa’s eyes, but Mike was unaffected by the remark.  


“Actually I told her you were doing fine,” he said. “She wanted me to tell you hello. She hopes everything is going well for you.”  


Eren scowled down at his almost empty plate. He couldn’t think of anything to combat that remark, which made him dislike Mike even more.  


Eren remained silent through the rest of the meal, tuning out the discussion that was happening two feet away from him. His mind was elsewhere, specifically at the bottom of a fifth of Bacardi.  


Mike helped clean up the kitchen. When he finally decided to leave, Mikasa walked with him to the door.  


“Remember,” he said, “dinner at my place tomorrow. It’s my turn to cook for you.”  


His gaze found Eren over Mikasa’s shoulder.  


“You’re welcome too, Eren,” he added. “I’d be glad to have you.”  


Instead of saying what was on his mind, Eren refrained from answering at all.  


“Thank you, Mike,” said Mikasa. She stood on her toes and kissed him. It was brief, chaste, but enough to make Eren’s expression darken.  


"Anytime," said Mike. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  


He waved at Eren and left, coat folded over his arm. The last Eren saw of him was the sweep of a gun as he strode away from the apartment door.  


Mikasa shut it and turned back to face her brother.  


“Do you have anything to say?” she asked. Her clipped tone answered her own question.  


“No,” said Eren, leaving the table in favor of lying on the couch. “Nothing at all.”


	4. Gratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and especially to those of you who have left comments. Your feedback is greatly appreciated! The story is kind of creeping along - when I say slow build, I mean _slow build_ \- but more things will begin happening soon. The chapter following this one will contain the first Ereri interaction, and the JeanMarco will emerge shortly. Again, thank you. ^^

Eren spent the night on the couch, sleeping fairly well despite the hours he had spent dozing in Mikasa’s bed. By the time he woke up the next morning, his headache was gone. That gave him conflicting emotions. It was somewhat of a relief that his skull no longer felt like it was about to burst. It was also a sign, though, that he needed to get drunk again, and soon.  


Even when he woke up he didn’t move. He was lying on his side, facing the back of the couch, so when Mikasa bustled through the room on her way to work she didn’t notice he wasn’t still sleeping. He closed his eyes as her footsteps approached, deepening his breaths to feign unconsciousness. She paused over him and he felt a light touch as her fingers trailed through his knotted hair.  


Ten minutes later she was gone, and he slowly pushed himself upright. His body was stiff and still sore, but much improved from yesterday. He stood up and stretched. His back popped, his ribs felt like they were trying to poke through his flesh, and standing that quickly made his head spin. He plopped back down on the couch, considering staying there for the rest of his life. Or at least until the good bars opened for business.  


He was still slouching on the sofa when the door opened thirty minutes later. Eren thought Mikasa had forgotten something, but was pleased to see that it was Armin.  


“Hey Armin.”  


He froze at the door, apparently startled by the greeting. “Eren?” he said. “Hey, I… hang on.”  


He fumbled along the wall for the light switch. Eren didn’t realize how dark the room was until the bulb flickered to life. He flinched away from the light, his head panging even though he squeezed his eyes shut.  


“Wow,” said Armin. He had stopped in the middle of the room, surveying Eren with a creased brow. “Eren, you look terrible.”  


“Thanks, I know. I always look terrible.”  


“No, I mean seriously. Have you looked at yourself?”  


He hadn’t. Even when he entered the bathroom Eren tended to avert his gaze from the mirror. It had become a habit, one that he didn’t care to break.  


Against his will, Eren found himself coerced into the bathroom and placed in front of the rectangular mirror that hung over the sink. As he stared at his reflection, the pit of desolation that perpetually resided in his chest grew even heavier.  


His face was destroyed. The entire left side was bruised, blue blotches blossoming along his jawline and creeping across his cheek. His lip was split right down the middle, and his right eye was ringed in black. All of the damage was framed by a messy nest of brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in a week, probably because it hadn’t been.  


Figuring that his appearance couldn’t get any worse, Eren lifted the hem of his shirt to view his abdomen.  


It got worse.  


Starbursts of black and blue exploded along his ribs, discoloring most of the left side of his torso. It was repulsive, and when Eren pressed a hand against the dark patches a stinging ache bloomed beneath his fingers.  


Again he remembered the year before, when his chest and stomach hadn’t consisted of skin stretched over a protruding ribcage. There had been no six-pack of abs, but he’d been damn close to it. Back then his body had been lean, but it was all muscle. Now he was just bones.  


Eren dropped his shirt back into place, flipped down the toilet lid, and sat on it with his head cradled in his hands. He was glad to see Armin, but he wished his friend hadn’t come at all. He didn’t want Armin to see him like this. He didn’t want to see himself like this, not when he had those memories of what he had once been.  


“This is worse,” said Armin. His voice was low, shocked. “I’ve seen you in pretty bad shape, but this is so much worse. What happened?”  


“I finally found someone who actually tried to kill me,” Eren grumbled into his hands.  


“Your ribs have to be bruised, at least,” said Armin, always analytical. “Maybe cracked, or worse. Can I take you to the hospital?”  


Eren shook his head, still not looking up.  


“Who was it? Why did they do this to you?”  


“Some guy at the bar,” answered Eren. He remembered what had happened for the most part. Some of it was foggy and some of it no longer existed, but he could piece together enough to create a haphazard picture. “I think I hit him first. I don’t know why.”  


“Just one guy?”  


“Yeah. He was pretty big, I think.”  


“Eren,” said Armin, exasperation leaking into his voice. He knelt on the bathroom floor and tried to get Eren to meet his eyes. “What were you thinking?”  


“I wasn’t thinking,” said Eren. “The alcohol was doing that for me.”  


“Why do you do this to yourself?”  


Slowly, Eren dropped his hands and lifted his eyes. Armin was staring back, his expression almost desperate.  


“Why are you here?” he asked.  


“I came to check on you. I was worried.”  


“Sure, but why? Why do you even care?”  


“We’re still friends,” said Armin. “No matter what you do. You’ve always been my best friend.”  


“You should find a new one.” Eren stood, one hand braced against the wall for support. He paced back into the living, Armin following behind him, and collapsed onto the couch.  


“I don’t want a new one,” said Armin, sitting on the opposite end. “I want my old one back.”  


Too many emotions could be dredged up from that statement, emotions that Eren couldn’t make himself face. Instead he shoved it aside and tried to dig deeper into his drunken recollections, mining for details.  


“I think I insulted him,” said Eren, recalling the big man’s muscles flexing beneath a tight-sleeved shirt. “And then I hit him. I got a couple punches in, but he didn’t seem to feel it. He was probably on steroids.”  


Armin said something but Eren wasn’t paying attention. He was still thinking, prying flashes of pain-soaked memories out of his mind.  


“He would’ve killed me,” he said. “I’m pretty sure he was trying to. Then he stopped.”  


“Maybe he realized he was really hurting you,” suggested Armin, trying to find a shred of optimism in the situation.  


“No,” said Eren, “not it.” His eyebrows bunched together as he remembered. “Someone stopped him. They must have been really bad ass because that guy was a fucking beast. I saw him, probably, but I don’t remember what he looked like. Probably another muscle head who just felt bad for me.”  


There was another flash. Eren remembered someone grabbing his arm, turning to hit them and missing. He remembered the bartender saying that the cops were coming, that he should leave… no, not Eren. The man had said that Levi should leave. Levi must have been the one who stopped him from becoming a body on the filthy floor of a bar. He was the one who’d either kept Eren alive or out of the ICU.  


Eren thought that if the bastard had minded his own business, maybe he would be dead by now.  


“Some guy named Levi,” said Eren. Armin had already been talking but shut his mouth as Eren spoke. “I was on the ground and he stopped the guy. I remember someone saying his name.”  


“He might’ve saved your life,” said Armin thoughtfully. “You’re aware of that, right?”  


“Yeah, I’m aware,” muttered Eren.  


Armin’s expression was disapproving, but it was also punctuated with hurt. “Please don’t be like that,” he said quietly. “I know you’re having a hard time but that’s not the answer. Think about what Mikasa would do if she lost you. You’re all she has, Eren.”  


“She’d still have Mike,” he scoffed. “She likes him better anyway.”  


“You know that’s not true.”  


Eren wanted to argue, but it would have been solely for the sake of disagreement. No matter how furious Mikasa was with him, he knew she would be devastated if he died. He would feel the same toward her, if he still possessed the ability to feel that deeply. Sometimes he wasn’t sure.  


“I know,” he finally said, deflating with a sigh. “That’s why I’m still here. If it wasn’t for her and for you I would’ve been done already.”  


The statement was vague, but both he and Armin knew exactly what he meant. If the two people closest to Eren hadn’t been in his life, he would have tasted the barrel of a gun months before. Most of the time he still wanted to. Everything would be much easier that way, for him and for everyone else. Unfortunately Armin and Mikasa had a hard time agreeing with him on the subject.  


“If it wasn’t for us,” agreed Armin, “and apparently this guy Levi. If he saved you from a worse beating than you got you at least owe him a thank you.”  


Eren laughed a little, but it was forced and false. That was the only kind of laugh that he could produce. The genuine ones had become extinct. “I’ll get right on that. I’m sure he’s the only Levi in the city. I’ll just whip out the phone book and start looking.”  


“Don’t be a smart ass,” said Armin. Eren didn’t see him roll his eyes, but knew he’d done it all the same. All that time spent growing up together had made little things like that predictable. “People – normal people, unlike you – typically go to the same bars. Humans like routine. If he was there the night before last, he’ll probably be there again soon.” He frowned, thinking. “Then again,” he added, “the guy you picked a fight with will probably be there again, too. Unless this Levi guy scared him off.”  


Armin’s suggestion was, at its core, the moral and appropriate action to take. Thanking someone for potentially saving your life was a good karma booster. Eren’s thought process latched onto the recommendation a little differently. When Armin spoke, all Eren heard was permission to go to a bar without having to sneak out when no one was around or make up lies about where he wasn’t going.  


This was validation. Armin told him to go to a bar; what choice did he have?  


“I’ll try to find him,” Eren promised. Armin didn’t notice that his friend was overly keen on the idea. “I’ll go tonight, as soon as the bar opens. Now that you mention it, I really do want to thank him. I really want to thank Levi.”


	5. Levi

It was later that night before Levi arrived at Titan’s Tankard, the bar that sat at the corner of Seventh and Magnolia. Typically when he stopped by it was around six, the time that he was supposed to leave work. Things had been a bit more chaotic that day and he’d been tied up until eight, which gave him all the more reason to stop for a beer before going home and repeating the same cycle all over again.  


It was a Thursday night. The crowd was denser than it had been the night before, but was nothing compared to the flock of drunkards that piled in on the weekends. Levi tended to avoid the bar on those nights, especially as the hours grew later. He was there for a drink. If he could get it while keeping his social interaction to a minimum, that was all the better.  


This was the primary reason that Titan’s Tankard was his most frequented bar. He had been there often enough for the other regulars to realize he liked his space. Rarely was he approached, and those who did so were quickly informed of his desire to remain solitary.  


That night the bar was being tended by Petra. As soon as Levi sat on the barstool at the farthest end of the counter, his back to the wall, she hustled over with a smile.  


“You’re late, Levi,” she said, placing a bottle and a square napkin on the bar in front of him. “Rough day at work?”  


“It was shit,” he answered, “as usual. People are idiots.”  


Petra was unperturbed by the harsh words. “Well thank god it’s almost Friday, right?”  


“Yeah, sure.”  


Petra placed her elbows on the bar between them and leaned forward, standing on her toes to get herself a little closer.  


“There’s someone here looking for you,” she murmured, just loudly enough to be heard over the din of noise that filled the bar.  


Levi sat a little straighter, his eyes sweeping the room with a sharpness that could slice steel.  


“No, no, not like that,” said Petra, touching his shoulder in a quick gesture of reassurance before breaking the contact. “It’s a young guy, I’ve never seen him before. He says you helped him the other night or something. He’s at the booth along the wall. Brown hair, green jacket. See him?”  


Levi followed her directions and found the one she spoke of, sitting with his back toward them. He was hunched over, cradling a glass between his palms.  


“What does he want?”  


“Apparently to thank you for whatever you did for him. You can’t tell from here, but he’s in pretty bad shape. His face looks like it was put through a meat grinder.”  


Levi remembered then. It must have been the kid from Tuesday night. He couldn’t imagine who else it could have been. If he’d known the brat would come back around he might not have intervened in the fight at all.  


He turned back to the counter, where Petra was still perched with her elbows on the bar. “He got the shit beat out of him,” said Levi. With deft movements he twisted the cap off of the bottle and used the napkin to thoroughly wipe the rim before raising it to his lips. He swallowed and said, “I stepped in before the guy could do any permanent damage.”  


“Oh yeah,” Petra said. She flicked the bottle cap off of the counter and into the floor. “Erd called me and said the cops had been here. Was that for him?”  


“It should have been,” said Levi. “He ran before they got here. Probably has a warrant.”  


She frowned and looked back toward the mess of brown hair across the room. The kid was sliding out of the booth, the empty glass clutched to his chest. “He doesn’t seem the type. I don’t get the criminal vibe from him.”  


“Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” They watched as the kid approached the bar and hoisted himself up four stools away. From that angle Levi saw that Petra had not exaggerated about the state of his face. It was swollen, darkly bruised, and disgusting. His eyes swiveled; one of them was ringed with purple. Levi braced himself for the kid’s attention, but he didn’t seem to notice Levi at all. His interest was reserved solely for Petra.  


“Be right back,” she said, sliding back behind the bar to tend to the train wreck. He ordered a gin and tonic. Petra obliged him, and as he raised the glass to his lips he noticed Levi’s stare. The kid simply raised the glass in Levi’s direction in a polite toast and started drinking, disregarding him completely.  


He may have remembered the circumstances of the fight, but Levi realized that the kid didn’t remember him specifically. There was no need for him to waste his time then. He would finish his beer, maybe have one more, and then leave. The brat could sit there all night if he wanted. It wasn’t Levi’s problem.  


After the next ten minutes, when the kid had killed two more gin and tonics back to back, Levi grudgingly decided that a conversation was unavoidable.  


The kid waved Petra over, but before he could order a refill Levi slid onto the stool beside him, talking over him.  


“Don’t give him any more, Petra,” Levi said. “He’s had plenty. Ring him up.”  


Petra gave him a mock salute before pacing to the other end of the bar, where a couple was waiting to order.  


The anger was instant. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” The kid demanded, the state of his face dulling the sharp edge of the words.  


“I’m Levi.”  


Surprise replaced the anger as the kid took in the new company, eyebrows raising with incredulity.  


“You’re Levi?” he repeated, his tone indicating disbelief.  


“I heard you have something to say to me, so say it.”  


“I think I got the wrong Levi,” he said. “Nevermind.”  


“I’m the only Levi. I saw you get pounded into a bloody pulp on the floor the other night and I made the regrettable decision to keep you from sustaining brain damage. Say thank you or what-the-fuck-ever and get out.”  


The brat was still staring, still trying to fit Levi into his mangled memories. “But,” he argued, “that guy was massive. There’s no way that you could have-”  


“If you make a single comment about my height I will put you right back where I found you Tuesday night,” said Levi. “It would be a shame to mess up the floors after they were just cleaned but I’m willing to do it.”  


The kid pulled back a little, edging away from Levi. “Oh, uh, okay then.” He thrust out his hand, as if trying to smooth over the moment. “I’m Eren.”  


Levi waited for the kid to abandon his attempt at a handshake. When he retracted his arm, Levi took another sip of beer.  


“So, umm, hey. I don’t really remember it all, but I know you stopped that guy from killing me, so… thanks for that. It was cool.”  


“You wouldn’t have died,” said Levi, “so don’t worry about it.”  


“Well okay, but still…”  


“Don’t act like I really did you a favor. I was here. I saw you start that fight. You knew you couldn’t win and you did it anyway. Obviously you have some masochistic shit you need to work on. I should’ve just left you lying there, maybe you would’ve gotten what you were looking for.”  


Eren didn’t know how to respond to that. He sat with his mouth slightly open until Petra returned and slid him a receipt. “Here you go, sweetie,” she said brightly. Her smile widened to include Levi. “So, what are we talking about?”  


“Nothing.” Levi shifted and removed his wallet from the back pocket of his black slacks. He tossed a folded ten dollar bill onto the bar. “I’m going home, today has been shit.”  


Eren mimicked him, fishing his own wallet out and fumbling through the crowded contents. Very little of it was reserved for cash. For the most part it was a graveyard of worn receipts that had probably been there for a year or more.  


“Are we still on for Saturday?” asked Petra, as the kid continued flipping through his meager funds.  


“Have you uninvited Hanji yet?” said Levi.  


“Come on, you know I can’t do that.”  


Eren dropped a handful of dollar bills onto the bar.  


“That’s not enough,” Levi said. “Petra is an excellent bartender. Leave her a better tip.”  


The kid looked at him warily, as if expecting the command to have been a joke. When he realized Levi was serious, he started digging deeper into the wallet.  


“Then don’t expect me,” Levi said to Petra, picking up their conversation as if Eren wasn’t there. “I’ve had a lot to deal with this week. I can’t handle her, too.”  


Petra sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Alright then, do what you want. If nothing else, though, you can come by my place after. We’ll get takeout and watch bad movies.”  


“That’s more reasonable.”  


When Eren had shoveled out six more dollars, Levi deemed the offering acceptable. He rose from his seat, tipping back the last of his bottle’s contents.  


“Be safe tonight, Petra,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”  


“No worries,” she said cheerily. She thumped a fist against the counter. “I’ve got my own personal bodyguard right here.”  


Eren’s ruined face twisted a little in confusion, but Levi understood. Petra was young and small and attractive. Most of the men who swaggered into the bar stopped after she’d turned them down a few times, but a day may still come when one wouldn’t take no for an answer. When that happened, she had a reliable friend stowed beneath the counter that would put them on the ground with a burst of buckshot.  


“Goodnight, Petra.”  


“’Night, Levi!”  


He ignored the other inhabitants of the bar as he crossed the room, even though a couple of them lifted a hand in greeting or acknowledgment. With the taste of beer still lingering on his tongue he stepped into the cold and turned up the collar of his coat.  


The door didn’t shut as he walked away, but he pretended not to notice. The stupid brat made it impossible.  


“Hey, Levi! Hold up!”  


His pace didn’t change. Eren caught up to him anyway.  


“But seriously,” said Eren. “Thanks. For the other night. I owe you one.”  


“You owe me nothing. Go home.” He pressed a button on his key fob. A few parking spaces away, the taillights of a black Lexus sedan flashed.  


“I’m just trying to be grateful here,” the kid persisted. “I’ll buy you a drink one day or something.”  


“Don’t bother.” Levi circled the bumper and approached the driver’s side of the car. He had already grabbed the door handle before Eren’s voice made him pause.  


“Fuck. There’s no fucking way.”  


Eren’s eyes had gone wide, fixated on a small sticker placed on Levi’s license plate. It was rectangular, black, and split horizontally with a solid blue stripe.  


His head came up and he backed away from the car slowly. “You’re a cop. You’re a fucking cop.”  


Levi was unmoved by the display. “No, I’m not, lucky for you. What’s your warrant for?”  


Eren blinked once, thrown a little by the question. “What? I don’t have any warrants.”  


“Well obviously you have something. If you’re smart you’ll stop drinking yourself into oblivion unless you want to get picked up and slapped with a public intoxication charge on top of whatever other trouble is following you around. Go home.”  


With that he yanked open the door and slid into the vehicle, slamming the car door behind him. Eren was still standing behind the Lexus when it started backing up and he quickly stumbled out of the way. He watched the car zoom out of the parking lot, slightly disoriented and not nearly as drunk as he would have liked. He wanted to go back inside and have a few more drinks, but he was certain that when Levi had told the bartender to cut him off, she had taken it to heart. There were plenty of other bars spotting the city, several within walking distance. Eren considered it. He started walking east, toward the tavern three blocks over. Before he made it out of the parking lot he stopped again, finding it difficult to think even though his mind was not nearly as clouded as usual.  


In the end he followed Levi’s advice, no matter how dubious it had been. He gave up on the night and went back home.


	6. Police

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos and to those of you who have simply taken the time to read! I've finished writing this and it's ended up being 41 chapters, so there's a long way to go.
> 
> Things actually do happen. I swear.

When Eren got home at ten that night, Mikasa was still awake. It wasn’t easy to catch her by surprise, but he had succeeded.  


“Eren?” she said, standing in the bathroom doorway with a toilet brush in hand.  


“Who else would it be?” he said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the arm of the couch.  


His sister studied him closely.  


“You’re not drunk.”  


“Don’t remind me,” he shot back. Eren went to the fridge and sifted through the contents. When he withdrew it was with a can of soda. He had only had four drinks before his stream of alcohol had been rudely interrupted. For some, that was enough to at least catch a heady buzz. Eren had been drinking so much over the course of the past few months that it barely even phased him. He plopped down on the couch and popped the tab on the can, sipping the carbonated sugar that was much less satisfying than hard liquor. “How was your dinner with Mike?”  


It took Mikasa a moment to answer. She remained in the doorway, eyeing Eren warily, as if afraid he would self-combust at any moment. She had forgotten about cleaning completely.  


“It was nice,” she finally answered. She took a step into the living room and realized the toilet brush was still in her hand. She moved back into the bathroom to put it down and then returned to perch on the opposite end of the couch from her brother. “He ordered spaghetti from Olive Garden and put it in a dish so I would think he had cooked it.”  


“Did he tell you that?”  


“No, he left the restaurant’s menu on the counter from where he had ordered. I didn’t have the heart to call him on it.”  


Eren snorted. “Classy, as always.”  


“How was your night?”  


“Fine.” Eren shrugged, taking another sip of the soda. “I went to a bar, the one on the corner close to the Vape shop. Do you know where I mean?” When she nodded he continued. “I was going to stay for a while but they cut me off after four drinks. It was an outrage.”  


Despite the complaint, his voice didn’t reflect frustration for the circumstances, an inconsistency that Mikasa grasped quickly.  


“Other than that, it’s actually an okay place to hang out,” said Eren. “Maybe we should go there together, you and me and Armin.”  


On his walk home, Eren had reflected more on the things that Levi had said, but mostly he’d focused on the way that he had said them. The short man wasn’t nice. He was harsh and blunt and rude. It was the first time in a while that someone had treated Eren that way rather than coddling him, the way that Mikasa and Armin always did. Sure, he had heard every insult possible in the midst of fights, but that was a different situation. Levi had called Eren out on some of his less favorable attributes and it was something that Eren had needed to hear. He almost felt a little better… almost.  


“We can go tomorrow night,” he suggested. “It’s Friday. People go to bars on Fridays.”  


“Mike and I were planning to spend tomorrow evening together.”  


Eren scowled. Fucking Mike.  


“Fine, he can come too, whatever. I just think it would be fun.”  


Mikasa considered the busted face of her brother and wondered when the last time had been that the word ‘fun’ had touched his lips.  


“Okay then,” she said. “We can do that. I’m sure Mike won’t mind.”  


“Great,” said Eren. He finished off the soda and crushed the can in his grip. “I’ll call Armin.”

 

The following evening Levi left work on time, which was rarely heard of for a Friday. After all of the disasters that he’d dealt with during the rest of the week he felt that he deserved a break. He pulled into the parking lot of the bar at half past six, intending to have a few beers and go home before the weekend crowd started filtering in. Unlike the regulars, they didn’t know to keep their distance. They would plop down beside him at the bar and try to make idle, pointless conversation. It was extremely irritating.  


As soon as he walked through the door, he noticed something else that was extremely irritating. The brat from the night before was still there, occupying a table along with three other people. It was a strange assortment, not the typical clientele. Two of them weren’t drinking anything heavier than coke.  


Levi thought about leaving. Then he saw Petra wave at him from behind the bar and realized he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his haven just because some stupid kid decided he wants to spend time there. The brat probably wouldn’t even look at him. He’d made it quite clear the night before that he wanted nothing to do with Eren.  


Keeping his gaze straight ahead, Levi walked past their table on his way to the bar and took his usual seat in the corner. Petra joined him momentarily, carrying his bottle of beer and a napkin.  


“How’s the job?” she asked, grinning.  


“Same as usual.”  


“Nothing exciting?”  


“No.”  


She sighed, but it was in good humor. “Okay then, I’ll go find someone more interesting to talk to. The kid from yesterday is back, I’m sure he’s got more exciting stories than you.”  


“Knock yourself out.”  


With a roll of her eyes, Petra shuffled off to mix some more drinks. Levi was nearly through his first beer when Eren jumped onto the stool beside him.  


“Hi.”  


Levi kept his head forward and took another drink of beer, pretending he hadn’t heard.  


“Levi, hey. It’s me, Eren, from last night. Remember?”  


Levi leaned forward and waved at Petra, indicating that he wanted another drink.  


“I really don’t have any warrants,” the kid continued, unruffled. “I swear I don’t. I’ve never been in any trouble like that. So if you’re not a cop, why do you have the sticker on your car? You’re only supposed to use them if you’re in law enforcement.”  


When Petra delivered Levi’s beer a couple of minutes later, Eren was still unsuccessfully trying to pry a conversation out of him.  


“Hey Eren,” said Petra, beaming. “Need topped up, sweetie?”  


“Yeah, I want another gin and tonic, and two more cokes… and Mike probably wants another beer too.”  


“Give me one second, I’ll grab it for you.”  


“Thanks!”  


When she was gone, Eren’s attention turned back to his silent, reluctant companion.  


“My friend is here with me,” he said, “and my sister. And her boyfriend too, but that wasn’t my idea. We don’t go out together much. I don’t think we have in months, really.”  


Levi closed his eyes and tightened his grip around his beer bottle. He envisioned breaking the glass on the edge of the counter and using the jagged edges to shut the kid up, permanently. Instead he took a tense sip and carefully placed the bottle back on the bar.  


“Here you go!” announced Petra as she slid the four drinks over to Eren. When her hands were free she extended one and gently touched the side of his bruised face. He winced a little under her fingers. “It’s looking a little better,” she noted. “The swelling is down. Just don’t get in any more fights, ‘kay? I’m sure you have a pretty face underneath all that.”  


Eren’s smile was awkward, rusty. “Uh, thanks. Oh, hey, put Levi’s drinks on my tab for tonight. I owe him one.”  


Before Levi could argue Petra chirped, “You’ve got it, sweetie! Consider it done.”  


With another thank you, Eren gathered up the drinks and carefully walked them back to the table. When he sat he nudged his blonde friend and nodded in Levi’s direction, muttering something under his breath. Armin’s eyes found him immediately.  


With a scowl, Levi turned back to Petra, who was smirking.  


“You’ve got a fan, sugar, although I’m not sure why. You’re a little abrasive.”  


“Apparently not abrasive enough,” he mumbled. “I’ll have to step it up.”  


Fortunately the brat seemed to have decided that the one-sided conversation had been enough interaction for the night. Levi hoped it would be the last time Eren bothered him. He had polished off his third beer and was counting out his money, paying his bill in full despite Eren’s proclamation that he would cover it. Even if he did, Petra could keep the extra as a tip. Levi was unbothered either way.  


Before he could rise and leave, two conspicuously out-of-place customers entered the bar. Levi noticed them immediately and wished he had ducked out five minutes sooner.  


At his table, Eren was oblivious until he noticed Mikasa stiffen. He raised his eyebrows, the turned to follow her gaze over his shoulder.  


Two police officers had entered, one closely observing a sheet of paper, the other standing with his hand on the butt of his gun. They scanned the room, studying, searching.  


Eren quickly twisted back and lowered his head, praying that he would go unnoticed. He had been having a good night, one of the best he’d had in a while. If they noticed him, if they saw him…  


“There, at that table.”  


Eren was so tense that his hands started shaking. He wrapped them around his glass, staring hard at the surface of the table and trying to disappear. The heavy thud of double footsteps approached.  


Then they continued past, angling toward a table on the far side of the room. The man sitting there realized belatedly that the police were approaching. He tried to make a run for the door, but one of the officers seized him roughly by the shoulders and shoved him into the wall. He wrenched the man’s hands behind his back and slapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.  


“I haven’t seen you in ages, Henegar,” the officer said, swinging the cuffed man away from the wall and pushing him toward the door. “It’s about time you popped up. Thank god for anonymous tips, right? Here, Marco, take him out to the car. Search him first, last time I hooked him up there was a fucking syringe stuffed in his sock.”  


The other officer, Marco, obediently gripped the offender by the arm and guided him across the floor. The first followed slightly behind. Eren looked up as they passed and accidentally made fleeting eye contact. He lowered his gaze but it wasn’t quickly enough to escape recognition.  


“Eren fucking Jaeger,” the cop said, stopping in his tracks. “Is that you?”  


Eren closed his eyes, willing the man to walk away. When he cracked them back open he was still standing there, grinning.  


“Fucking A, it is you. What happened to your face? You look like shit.”  


Heat rose to Eren’s cheeks, but he doubted the flush was visible beneath the shades of black and blue. He kept his eyes down and clenched his jaw, hoping that the officer would just walk away.  


“Hey, Jaeger.” The man knocked on the table, trying to capture his attention. “Come on, man, I’m talking to you here. What’s wrong with you?”  


“What’s wrong with me?” Eren repeated, the words dripping from his tongue like acid. He raised his head to meet the officer’s gaze, his anger rising to find those smug eyes staring back. “You’re what’s wrong with me, Jean. Just leave me the fuck alone.”  


The cop’s hands tightened into fists. His right strayed toward his gun but then swept up to tap the badge on his chest.  


“I’m on duty,” he said. “You don’t talk to me like that, Jaeger. You shut your damn mouth or I’ll put you back in your place.”  


Mikasa was on her feet, moving between Jean and the table and forcing the officer to take a step back. “You leave him be,” she said, and though her voice was calm, something poisonous laced her tone. “He’s gone through enough because of you. I won’t let you make it worse.”  


Jean tilted his head at her, unconcerned by her anger. “You must be his sister.” He looked around her at Eren and grinned. “She must be, because she’s definitely not your girlfriend, right, Jaeger?”  


Mikasa slammed a forearm into his chest and shoved him a step back.  


All of the humor drained from Jean’s face. His jaw was tight, brows furrowed. This time his hand did return to his gun, fingers curling around the grip. “I’m a police officer,” he stated in a low voice. “You don’t want to get arrested for assaulting a cop, I promise you that.”  


The other officer, Marco, had paused at the door, their prisoner in tow. Uncertainly he took a step forward, but Jean held up a hand to prevent the advance.  


“Just take him out to the car,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”  


As Marco complied, Jean added, “Maybe I’ll have a second body to toss into jail. How’s that sound to you, princess?”  


“If you think I’m afraid of you,” said Mikasa, unflinching, “then you give yourself too much credit. I don’t care what your day job is. You’re still a coward.”  


Jean’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his gun. His free hand darted out to seize Mikasa by the arm. She fought against his hold, trying to sidestep, but he refused to release her. Eren stood quickly, not sure what he was supposed to do, but certain that he had to do something.  


Before he could act, intervention came from elsewhere.  


“Kirschtein. Stand down.” Levi had approached, his stern expression cracking to reveal a spark of anger. “Leave the kids alone and take care of your warrant.”  


“Levi,” said Jean, quickly releasing Mikasa and taking a step back. “She’s out of line. It’s textbook disorderly conduct. I could arrest her, too.”  


“But you won’t because you’re the instigator,” said Levi flatly.  


“Look, you don’t know what’s going on here. Jeager is a fucking--”  


“I don’t care,” snapped Levi, cutting him off. “I saw enough to know you’re the one who’s out of line. If you want to keep arguing then call your sergeant down here. We’ll see who he sides with.”  


This time it was Jean’s face that started to darken, a furious flush settling into his features. He cast a last, sharp glare at Eren, who was still standing uselessly at the side of the table. With an exhale that was almost a growl, he pressed the button on the radio speaker clipped on his shoulder. “Ten-four, one male subject in custody,” he reported, walking away from the group without another glance. “Twenty-nine served, en route to the detention center, ETA nineteen-twenty.”  


He went outside, leaving a lingering silence behind him in the bar. Eventually people started to murmur to one another again, the voices growing louder until everything had again reached full volume. Still no one in Eren’s group moved.  


The bathroom door swung open and Mike swaggered out, hesitating as he noticed the awkwardness that had developed during his absence.  


“Uh,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”


	7. Ride

Eren didn’t go back to the bar the next night, or the one after that, or the one after that. He liked it there, and he was especially fond of the service when Petra was bartending, but he was too humiliated to show his face there after the incident. Maybe Jean had gone back afterward and told everyone about Eren. Maybe all of them knew everything, and if he went there he would be shamed right back out.  


The one he was most concerned about was Levi. Levi had obviously known Jean, well enough to demand a measure of respect that Eren had rarely seen Jean offer. It meant something, but Eren didn’t know what. It was almost like Levi was Jean’s superior, but Levi had claimed he wasn’t a cop. Eren didn’t know why he would lie about it.  


Eren hardly knew Levi, and it was clear that Levi didn’t really want to change that. Still, Eren found himself caring about what the other man would think of him if he found out Eren’s desperately guarded shame. He found himself caring too much.  


That was Eren’s problem, and he’d realized it long before. He cared too much. He analyzed and obsessed and drove himself to near madness over everything. He was aware, and he’d found a way to fix it.  


Unfortunately, the fixing involved copious amounts of alcohol. A week after his encounter at the bar, Eren woke up to the sound of pots clanging together. Even after he was roused, it took a few minutes for Eren to pry his face away from the couch cushion and raise his head.  


Through squinted eyes he saw Mikasa rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen.  


“What’re you doing?” he asked, the words blurring together in a thick croak.  


“Mike is coming over,” she said curtly.  


“Again?”  


“If it isn’t too much trouble,” said Mikasa, “could you kindly drag yourself into my bed so that he and I can have a nice dinner together?”  


Eren pushed himself into an unsteady sitting position, one hand pressed against the side of his throbbing head. “I’m not invited?”  


“You’re still drunk from last night. This morning, rather. You would just sit and toss incomprehensible insults at Mike and I am not in the mood today, Eren.”  


He turned his head to check the clock on the wall. It was already six. He had been asleep for almost twelve hours.  


“Yeah, whatever,” he said, his mind too hazy to take offense. “I’m going to take a shower.”  


Mikasa said nothing as he rose and stumbled into the bathroom. Despite her irritation, she checked on him twice during the forty-five minutes that he sat on the floor of the tub to confirm he hadn’t drowned. When Eren finally emerged, his head had cleared quite a bit. Too much, by his standards. When his mind functioned properly it allowed him to think, and thinking was bad.  


He had believed he was getting over it, if only just a little. Then Jean had swept in and reminded him once again that it didn’t matter how much time passed. It had still happened and it would follow him for the rest of his life.  


Eren needed a drink.  


Mike and Mikasa were at the table when he emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and the same clothes he’d worn for the past two days.  


“Hey Eren,” said Mike. “How’re things?”  


“Fan-fucking-tastic.”  


He ignored Mikasa’s glare.  


As Eren shrugged into his coat, Mike said, “Why don’t you join us? Your sister’s barbeque is outstanding.”  


“Fuck you, Mike.”  


Mikasa protested sharply as Eren left and slammed the door behind him. He cleared the hallway with quick steps and took the stairs down at a near run. It was still cold. He didn’t realize until he reached the open parking lot that flurries of snow were falling, just beginning to stick to the patches of unhealthy grass in the apartment building’s shoddy landscaping.  


Once he reached the sidewalk, Eren paused. The nearest bar was a hole-in-the-wall shack that featured a backroom for the specific purpose of housing junkies who needed to shoot up. He wasn’t above buying his liquor there if he got desperate, but it wasn’t his preference. There was another one a little further away, one that was warm and clean and friendly…  


One that he may not be welcome in anymore.  


Eren was mostly sober by then, but still just buzzed enough to decide to take the risk. Twenty minutes later he was pushing open the door to Titan’s Tankard, holding his breath as he stepped over the threshold as if plunging into deep black water. When he didn’t immediately drown, he waded a few steps further, still waiting for someone to shout at him to leave.  


Slow, careful steps took him to the counter. He saw Levi sitting at the end on his typical stool but made a conscious effort not to look directly at him. Instead, Eren slid onto a stool halfway down the bar, putting a safe distance between them.  


A blonde man was the bartender that night and Eren found himself disappointed that it wasn’t Petra’s unwavering cheer that greeted him. All the same, he ordered his usual drink choice and waited quietly with his head down.  


When the glass clinked down in front of him a few minutes later, it was with a whiff of warm amber perfume. He raised his head to find Petra leaning on the counter, face stretched with a smile.  


“Eren!” she said. “I thought that was you! It was hard to tell, though, your hair’s not as messy as usual.” She extended a hand and ruffled his dark hair, reverting it to a more characteristic disarray. “You haven’t been here in a while, what’s up?”  


“You know, just been busy,” said Eren, aware that he was producing the lamest excuse possible. He found the male bartender a short distance away, shrugging into a thick coat. He was talking to Levi. As Eren stared, Levi’s gaze swept over in his direction. Eren quickly turned his head and focused on his drink.  


“Is that new?” asked Petra, brushing cool fingers against Eren’s cheek, just below his right eye.  


“Yeah,” he said, shrinking away from her touch. His black eye had healed a few days before. His drunk self had interpreted that as a challenge to earn a new one. “It happened last night, I think. Maybe the night before. I don’t really remember.”  


Petra’s cheer was punctured. “Eren, sweetie,” she said. “Why do you do that to yourself? Look at you. With your face almost back to normal you’re adorable. You could be anything you want.”  


He knew Petra was just being nice, but the words made him want to gag. Instead he threw back his gin and tonic in several gulps and barely kept himself from slamming the empty glass down on the counter. “No,” he said bitterly, “I can’t. Get me another drink.” He didn’t look up as she started to walk away. He didn’t want to see the pity or disgust or judgment on her face. “Please,” he added as an afterthought, hoping she’d heard.  


It wasn’t until he asked for drink number five that Petra again spoke to him.  


“Sorry, Eren,” she said, scooping up his empty glass. “I have to cut you off.”  


“What? Why?” He wasn’t hammered enough to explode but the anger was still there, churning in his stomach along with the alcohol that he’d binged. “I’m not even drunk!”  


Petra didn’t say anything, but her eyes darted to the side quickly, involuntarily. Eren followed her gaze and found Levi sipping his beer, eyeing the two of them over the curve of the glass bottle.  


“He doesn’t even work here!” Eren exclaimed. He realized that he was being too loud, but couldn’t make himself care. “He’s not your boss! He’s not anybody’s boss, he can’t tell you what to do. He can’t tell you what I can do. Tell him to shut up. Just bring me one more drink.”  


“Sweetie, I’m sorry,” she said, resting a gentle hand on the back of Eren’s. “You’ve had enough.”  


He yanked his arm back and stood, ignoring the way the room swayed as he found his feet. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, slapping a hand on the counter. “You don’t know anything. Your only fucking job is to make drinks. So go make me one.”  


“Hey, dude, you need to calm down.”  


A solid hand accompanied the voice, gripping Eren’s shoulder tightly. He spun and slapped away the touch, his hands already curling into fists. The anger burned, bubbled, slowly rising into the red rage that he usually didn’t see until he’d tossed back a few more drinks. Still, he wasn’t going to complain. He liked the anger. It made him numb.  


“You need to back the hell off,” snapped Eren, eyes narrowing into a glare at the unfamiliar face. The man was taller than he was, but Eren didn’t mind. It wasn’t fun if it wasn’t a challenge. “You want to go, bitch? I’ll put you in the ground.”  


“That’s enough.” This time it was a different hand that clamped down on the back of Eren’s neck, shoving him away from the potential brawl. Eren stumbled, caught himself on a stool, then turned to find Levi dropping a stack of bills on the counter. “Here, Petra. This will cover the brat’s drinks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  


“Bye, Levi,” she said, her smile forced. It cracked a little when she added, “Bye, Eren. Hope you feel better.”  


Before Eren could shoot back the scalding comment that burned on his tongue, Levi had again grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed him toward the door.  


“Outside. Now.”  


Eren wanted to argue. He wanted to fight. As he turned to make those intentions clear, the steel in Levi’s glare brought him up short. Even through his drunken haze he knew it was best for him to shut his mouth and comply, and that was what he did.  


Levi followed him outside. Once they both stood in the snow, which was falling even more thickly, Levi said, “You’d damn sure best not be planning to drive.”  


“No,” mumbled Eren, “don’t drive anymore. Sold my car.”  


“If you hadn’t just jumped down Petra’s throat she might’ve called a cab for you.”  


Eren shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter, I always walk.”  


“How far?”  


“Shiganshina apartment complex,” said Eren. “Just a couple of blocks. I go that way.”  


He pointed in the general direction of the side of the bar, where a narrow alley was tucked between buildings.  


“You’ve got to be shitting me,” said Levi. “You intentionally go home through the shadiest route possible, so drunk off your ass that it’s obvious to anyone who glances at you that you’re wasted. Are you trying to get mugged? You’re a prime fucking candidate.”  


“Whatever, let them try. I could use a good fight.”  


“Muggers don’t fight,” snapped Levi. “They slide a knife between your ribs and leave you there to bleed.”  


Eren shrugged, unconcerned.  


Levi exhaled a bitter sigh, the breath visible in the chilled air. “Goddammit. Come on, stupid brat.”  


He gave Eren a shove toward the parking lot, not bothering to catch the kid when his drunken stagger put him on the ground. Levi walked past as Eren struggled to rise, supporting himself on the bumper of a Geo Metro. By the time he was again mobile Levi had unlocked the doors of his Lexus and was stretched over to the passenger side.  


Eren reached the car and peered in through the window, barely able to see anything inside in the dull light of the streetlamp a couple of parking spots away. Levi's car either didn't have an interior light or it was broken. Eren squinted at the object that was in the floorboard of the car, the thing that Levi was reaching for with outstretched fingers.  


It took his foggy brain a moment to place it. By the time he realized what it was, Levi had already grabbed it and withdrawn.  


“Fuck!” Eren shouted, stumbling back and slamming into the Civic in the parallel space.  


Levi’s cool stare was unaffected. “Calm down, idiot.” He circled to the trunk, popped it, and carefully placed the handgun inside. “If I wanted to shoot you I wouldn’t do it in the parking lot. I’d drive you outside of town and leave you lying on the side of the road. Get in.”  


Eren felt like walking home might actually be the safest way to go. Still, he stepped forward and pulled on the door handle, clumsily falling into the sleek leather seat. He smoothed his fingers over the dash, which was spotless and gleaming.  


“Nice ride,” said Eren as Levi got in the car and pulled the door shut. “What year is it?”  


“Don’t worry about it.” Levi pushed a button and the engine purred to life. “If you vomit in my car what I do to you will make you beg for death.”  


Eren wasn’t sure if Levi was joking or not. The man’s stern expression suggested that he wasn’t. Eren dropped his gaze to his feet, hoping he hadn’t tracked anything into the pristine floorboard. Something gleamed beside his left sneaker and he hunched over, trying to see it through the murk of the shadows.  


“Put your seat belt on,” said Levi, taking his own advice and snapping his safety belt into place.  


“You said you weren’t a cop.” Eren scooped the badge out of the floor and stared at it blankly. With his other hand he fumbled for the door handle, preferring to take his chances with the muggers.  


“I’m not. Look at the damn thing, genius.”  


“It’s a fucking badge, and it was lying right beside your fucking gun. What the hell else would it be for?”  


With a motion too quick for Eren to react to, Levi snatched the badge away and flicked on a light attached to the car’s rearview mirror.  


“Can you read?” said Levi, shoving it toward Eren’s face. “Or are you too drunk? Or too stupid?”  


Eren reeled back, squinting at the shaped metal.  


DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS  


PROBATION OFFICER  


“Oh,” he said, the word a whisper wrapped around his exhale of relief.  


“I’m not a cop,” Levi repeated, “So calm your ass down and put your seat belt on.”  


It took him a few tries to get it right, but Eren obeyed. When he was strapped in Levi shifted into reverse and backed smoothly out of the parking spot.  


Both of them were silent as the Lexus merged onto the main road. A minute passed before Eren realized the radio wasn’t even on. He studied the knobs and buttons on the dash, but didn’t want to fiddle with Levi’s car. He figured it wouldn’t be appreciated.  


They were one street away from the set of apartments that Eren now called home when Levi finally spoke.  


“So what’s your problem with the police anyway?” he said it conversationally, as if it was a passing thought that he wasn’t overly concerned with.  


Despite the casual nature of the question Eren tensed, the leather seat squeaking as his body went rigid.  


“I don’t want to talk about it.” It was said clearly, no trace of his drunken slur present.  


“Well that’s obvious,” said Levi. “I’m asking anyway.”  


“Why don’t you ask Jean Kirschtein?” snapped Eren. “Since the two of you know each other so well.”  


“Kirschtein is an ass,” said Levi flatly. He cut the car into the lot of the apartments, bringing it to a quiet idle at the sidewalk. He shifted into park and turned slightly, facing Eren. “I’m asking you.”  


“And I’m saying I don’t want to talk about it.” His anger had been subdued, but with this conversation he felt it rising again, swelling within him like an angry, crimson tidal wave. “What the fuck do you care, anyway?”  


Levi’s flat stare didn’t change. “I don’t,” he said. “Get out.”  


“Fine.”  


Eren flung the door open and tried to exit, but was restrained by the seat belt that was still securely buckled. He fumbled at it, finally pressing the release and detangling himself before pushing out of the car. Without a word he slammed the door shut and stomped toward the stairs. He didn’t look back and didn’t see the narrow speculation in Levi’s stare as the man slowly drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably post a chapter tomorrow and the next day, because after that things start picking up a little more. I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired of waiting for something to happen... and it's my fic. -.-


	8. Apologies

Jean Kirschtein had been a police officer for six years. He’d been a field training officer for the last two and had been paired with half a dozen new trainees during that span of time. Marco Bodt happened to be the one that he got along with the best. Unfortunately he was also the worst police officer Jean had ever seen.  


“Marco, come on, dude. I’ve told you over and over,” said Jean, obviously exasperated. “When you’re doing traffic you have to call in the final stop when you pull someone over. That’s the one thing you’re absolutely not allowed to forget. Everyone else needs to know where you are in case something happens and you need backup.”  


The two of them were in the parking lot of a Hardee’s. The unhappy recipient of a ticket had just driven away after snapping rudely at Marco for issuing him a red light citation.  


“I know,” said Marco, his troubled stare glued to the steering wheel. “I just forgot.”  


“Well you can’t forget anymore, forgetting that could get you killed.”  


“I know. I’m sorry.”  


“Don’t be sorry. Sorry never fixes anything.”  


The two of them sat in a heavy silence for a long moment.  


“Well?” said Jean. “Isn’t there something you’re supposed to do now?”  


Marco’s mind was blank for a prolonged second. “Oh!” he said, fumbling for the radio that dangled from the rearview mirror. He pressed the button and said, “Headquarters, 107. Ten-ninety-eight from the ten-eighty-one.”  


Before he could return the radio Jean said, “Citation.”  


“Oh yeah.” Marco pressed the button again and added, “Citation issued.”  


As he hung it back up Jean sighed loudly.  


“Dude, you’ve been doing this for three months now. I’m really trying to help you out here. I want you to make it. What can I do that’s going to make this stuff stick?”  


“I don’t know,” said Marco, his brow creasing. “I’m trying, Jean. I know I screw stuff up, but I really am trying. You know that, right?”  


“Yeah, of course. If you weren’t doing your damn best I would’ve sent you home by now.”  


Marco’s shoulders slumped a little more beneath his crisp uniform.  


“Come on, don’t get down about it,” said Jean, slapping him lightly on the arm. “Just keep trying. Remember everything I’m telling you. And I swear to god, if you don’t stop driving like a grandma you’re riding in the back.”  


Marco forced a laugh. “Sorry, I’m just being cautious. I don’t want to wreck your car.”  


“You’re not going to. Even if you do, so what? I’ve ran over shit plenty of times in this bitch. She can handle it.” He patted the dash affectionately before sitting back and fishing a can of tobacco out of the center console. He tucked a pinch of it behind his bottom lip and offered the can to Marco.  


“No thanks, I don’t dip.”  


“I know.” Jean screwed the lid back on and tossed the tin can into one of the empty coasters. “It might do you some good, though. Nicotine calms the nerves. Yours definitely need to be calmed.”  


“Sorry.”  


“If you say that one more time I’ll make you shine my boots.”  


Marco couldn’t decide if he should laugh or not. He sufficed with a half smile. “I’ll try.”  


“Good. Make sure that you do.” Jean reached beneath his seat, emerging with an empty Pepsi bottle. He unscrewed the lid and spat a stream of thin brown juice into the plastic bottle. Marco looked away and tried not to cringe. At least the tobacco that Jean used smelled minty.  


“Well come on, let’s ride around,” said Jean, gesturing toward the road. “You’re not going to learn anything if we just sit here.”  


“Right, okay,” said Marco. He shifted the car into drive and crept out of the parking lot, taking an exaggerated pause at the exit as he looked for oncoming traffic.  


“Marco?”  


“Yeah?”  


“You left the blue lights on.”  


“Sorry.”

 

\----------------------------

  


Three days after Eren had been given a ride home, he woke up sober.  


He had tried to get that way for a couple of days, but kept breaking and boozing himself back up. The night before he’d finally forbidden himself from going out and had fallen asleep with only a gentle buzz.  


The plan had been to wake up with a completely clear head. Now that he’d succeeded, though, he was regretting the decision. Clarity was not Eren’s friend.  


“Fuck.”  


It was the first word that left his mouth when he woke up.  


He dragged himself off of the couch and stumbled into the kitchen for some soda to wash out the nasty taste that lingered on his tongue. On the front of the fridge a note had been left, secured with a small, round magnet.  


_With Mike. Back later. Be good._  


“Fuck.”  


He tore the note down, the magnet cartwheeling away and rolling out of sight underneath the table. With unnecessary force he ripped up the paper and sprinkled it into the garbage can like bland confetti.  


Forgetting about the soda, he stomped into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he was finished he checked the time. It was already seven p.m.  


“Fuck.”  


Scrubbing the rest of the sleep from his eyes, Eren plopped back down on the couch and started lacing up his sneakers. He’d worn them so long that the soles were beginning to separate, but that wasn’t reason enough for him to throw them out. He liked to keep things as long as possible. You never knew when something would be lost for good; might as well enjoy it while you can.  


He grabbed his coat and hustled out the door, making sure to lock the deadbolt so Mikasa wouldn’t flay him alive for forgetting again.  


It was about thirty minutes later when he arrived at Titan’s Tankard. He could’ve been there sooner, but once he’d started walking he found himself going more slowly the closer he got. He stood outside the storefront for a few minutes, an intimate friend of procrastination. Hardly anyone was going in or out. It was a Monday night, so Eren figured business would be fairly slow. That was for the best. If he was going to go and embarrass himself he’d prefer fewer witnesses.  


Finally he made himself step up to the door and peer through the glass. He checked the counter that split the room but saw no one stationed behind it. The bartender must have stepped into the back. It would have been a relief to have spotted Petra, since that was part of the reason that he had come. Still, he was apprehensive as well. He didn’t like to apologize.  


Bracing himself, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. There were very few patrons scattered around the interior. He didn’t let himself look at the people occupying the stools lining the bar. He wasn’t ready to take that step yet.  


Deciding that it was best to sit and wait for the bartender to reemerge, he started for one of the tables nearby. Before he sat, though, a bright voice pulled him to a stop.  


“Hi Eren, good to see you again.”  


He almost twitched at the sound. Slowly, he turned to find Petra wiping down one of the tables in the corner, her strawberry blonde bob a mess of waves. Though she had greeted Eren, she wasn’t really looking at him. Her focus was on the table that she was scrubbing with a little too much force.  


Though he wanted nothing more than to just keep walking, Eren pivoted and approached her. Even when he stopped directly in front of the table she didn’t acknowledge him any further.  


“Petra?” asked Eren. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”  


“Sure, go ahead.” She kept wiping.  


Eren inhaled, pieced his thoughts together, and started talking before he could change his mind. “Look, Petra, I’m really sorry about the other night. I was drunk… as usual… and I didn’t mean anything I said to you. I didn’t mean to yell, I was just mad. I’m always mad, most of the time. Especially when I’m drunk. So yeah, I’m sorry and I hope you don’t hate me because you’ve probably been nicer to me than anyone I’ve ever met.”  


Halfway through the speech Petra stopped cleaning and waited, unmoving. When Eren finished she dropped the washrag and looked up at him with clear hazel eyes.  


“Oh, Eren, sweetie.”  


He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. Petra skipped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, gently squeezing him in a hug. The top of her head just reached the line of his jaw.  


“That’s okay, I forgive you,” she said, breaking the embrace. Before moving away she stood on her toes and inhaled directly in front of his face. “I don’t smell alcohol on you.”  


“Yeah, I haven’t drunk anything today.”  


“And your face looks so much better, too!” said Petra, reaching up to lightly pinch his cheek. “You really are super cute, Eren, did you know?”  


Eren’s face began to flush.  


“Uh, thanks?”  


Someone sitting at the bar waved in Petra’s direction. She swiped the washrag from the table and sidestepped Eren. “Oops, have to go grab him another drink. Glad you’re here, sweetie!”  


She pranced away and left Eren standing there, red-faced and awkward.  


Once Petra was safely back behind the counter and the first half of Eren’s painful to-do list had been checked off, he allowed himself to scan the patrons seated at the bar. He started at the end nearest the door, sliding down the line slowly until he reached the far corner.  


Levi’s stool was vacant.  


Eren wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. For lack of anything better to do, he crossed the room and took the second seat from the wall. Even if Levi wasn’t there he felt it was a bad idea to take his spot. When Petra wandered over to him, smiling as if Eren had never been explosively rude toward her, he said, “Just get me a beer I guess. Whatever kind is cheapest.”  


“Sure thing, doll.”  


Eren wondered if Petra was really just that unbelievably friendly or if she was maybe flirting with him. He tried to puzzle it out as he sipped the beer she brought him, wishing he’d gone straight for the gin and tonic instead.  


“What are you doing here, brat?”  


The voice startled him. He nearly choked on the swallow of beer he’d just taken. Struggling to clear his throat, he turned his head to find Levi sliding onto the stool beside him, his brow creased with perpetual criticism.  


The apology that Eren had taken the time to mentally prepare for that exact moment was whisked away on fluttering wings, leaving him completely blank.  


“Umm, Levi. Hey.”  


Levi scoffed. “Again, what are you doing here?”  


“I came to get a beer,” said Eren, avoiding the older man’s stare. “And I kind of wanted to talk to you, too.”  


Petra chose that moment to sweep over with Levi’s typical drink, placing it in front of him with a cheery greeting and a smile that swelled to envelop both of them. As she paced away Levi said, “Well it looks like you’ve already patched things up with Petra. Go ahead then, get your shitty apology over with and leave.”  


Eren had already been struggling for words and Levi’s attitude only intensified his awkwardness.  


“Okay, well, uh… I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” he said, starting with the most generic phrase possible. “For the other night. You drove me home and I was an ass. I was drunk and I get pissed when I’m drunk. So, umm… yeah. I’m sorry.”  


“Fascinating,” said Levi, taking a sip of his beer. “When you’re sober you can barely string a sentence together.”  


Eren’s cheeks started to flush and there was no bruising to hide the touch of red. He forced himself to continue. “I was mad because you were asking me about… well, you know. And I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t even like to think about it. But… that one night, when Kirschtein was fucking with me and Mikasa, you shut him up. So I guess I at least owe you an explanation.”  


By the time he’d finished speaking, the dark blush had crept down onto the back of Eren’s neck. He rubbed at it self-consciously, hoping that the dim lighting of the bar would prevent Levi from seeing how flustered he was.  


“Alright then,” said Levi. “Explain.”  


Eren shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t mean… I can’t right now. Not… not in here, not in public. It’s a personal thing. I don’t want anybody to overhear.”  


“Then what are you expecting? I’m not letting you back in my car. You tracked dirt all over my damn floor mat.”  


“I don’t know.” The admission was delivered as a groan. Eren pressed his hands over his face, trying to will the heat beneath his skin to disperse. “I’m just trying to make it right.”  


He heard the sigh slide between Levi’s lips but didn’t emerge from his shield of fingers, guarding himself against the inevitable, judgmental comment that was about to be dropped.  


“I take lunch at noon,” said Levi. “Tomorrow meet me at Stonewall Café. If you’re going East on Ferguson it’s about halfway down the block toward Crescent. That’s fairly close to your place and it’s convenient because everyone who goes there is so old that they’re as deaf as a damn stone. You could admit to committing mass murder and they would think you were talking about a damn meteor shower.”  


Eren gradually lowered his hands, occupying them with the bottle in front of him. He rolled it between his palms before draining the rest of the beer. “Are you sure?” he finally asked, tilting his head toward Levi.  


“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped back. “It had best not be a shitty story, though, after I’m going through all this trouble to hear it.”  


Petra returned then and Eren said nothing more on the subject. Just thinking about it made him nauseous. Mikasa and Armin knew what had happened but they were the only ones he had ever told. Mike probably knew, though; that was half of the reason why Eren hated him.  


He had never planned to share that part of his past with anyone else, but he did owe Levi a favor. He would repay it with honesty and be rewarded with more hatred, the same hatred that he saw reflected in Jean Kirschtein’s eyes every time he saw Eren.  


He asked Petra for one more beer. That would probably be the last time he was welcome in the bar. He’d best try to enjoy it.


	9. Lunch

Eren crawled off of the couch at eleven-fifteen. He wondered if the apocalypse had happened while he’d been sleeping because he felt like a sponge-brained zombie.  


The last time he’d been forced to wake up before noon was months ago. He hadn’t stayed out too late the night before, and hadn’t even left the bar drunk, but he still felt like he’d been rolled over by a Mack truck.  


A low, deep groan gurgled from Eren’s throat as he stumbled toward the bathroom. “This is worse than a hangover,” he grumbled to himself. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”  


There was no one around to hear his mumbled complaints so he climbed into the shower and tried not to doze beneath the hot spray. He pilfered some of Mikasa’s shampoo and rubbed it over the handfuls of dark hair that wetly slapped him in the face.  


Twenty minutes later he was passably clean, dressed in clothes that had only been worn on a couple of occasions since their last wash, and walking toward downtown with his hands crammed in the pockets of his jacket.  


The sun was out. He squinted against the light, wishing he’d thought to bring sunglasses. Or wishing he hadn’t bothered to leave the apartment at all.  


That churning nausea made another appearance as he considered what he was about to do. It was akin to flicking the switch on your own electric chair. It was social suicide, made worse by the fact that Eren barely had a social life to kill. Levi and Petra were the first people he’d willingly spoken to for months, aside from Mikasa and Armin. He had no doubt that Levi would spill everything to Petra and both of them would want nothing more to do with him.  


On the tail of that thought he stopped, surprised that he had already reached Ferguson. He looked at the adjoining storefronts that lined the street and saw the café that Levi had mentioned four businesses ahead. Eren checked the time on his phone. It was twelve-o-three.  


A few people sidestepped him and moved past, giving him stern looks for holding up the flow of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk. They were all dressed in slacks and ties or skirts and heels. Eren looked down at his old jeans and faded t-shirt and suddenly wanted nothing more than to go home and never leave. This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea. He didn’t want to do this.  


He spun on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction. Then a car that was parallel parked across the street caught his eye and he stopped again. It was a black Lexus, gleaming as if it had just been driven off the lot.  


Eren had promised Levi an explanation. He was many things, most of them negative, but he had never been one to go back on his word. He kept his promises.  


Reminding himself of that was the only thing that convinced him to again change direction and trudge to the café.  


The word ‘Stonewall’ was plastered over the door in giant block letters that were, ironically, hewn from grey stone. Eren went inside without pausing. He was afraid that if he hesitated he would change his mind again. The inside of the café was nearly as bright as standing on the sidewalk. Seventy-five percent of the storefront consisted of large panes of glass, giving the café the feel of a fishbowl.  


There were wrought iron tables, some booths lining the walls, and a clear counter with a delectable selection of desserts displayed just inside the door. Some of the patrons matched the pedestrians that Eren had seen bustling about the sidewalks in business attire. They sat alone or in pairs, tapping away on laptops or chatting at the speed of light into the Bluetooth equipment that plugged their ears. They were the minority, though. As Levi had said, most of the customers present were so old that they had probably seen their fair share of pterodactyl sightings.  


It took Eren a moment to locate Levi at a table in the back corner of the café, as isolated as possible. Eren realized it was the same strategy that he used for choosing his seat at the bar. He was as far from the other clientele as he could manage with his back against the wall, giving himself a clear view of the entire diner.  


Eren weaved through the tables and approached with a fair measure of apprehension, the smell of soup drifting from the kitchen both enticing and stomach churning. He stopped a step away from the table, peering curiously at the paperwork that Levi had arranged in organized piles. He was filling in information on the pages, his handwriting so neat that it was difficult to determine what he had written and what was typeset.  


“Are you waiting for an invitation?” asked Levi, his pen still gliding across the sheet of paper.  


“No, I just didn’t want to interrupt.”  


“You’re not. Sit.”  


Eren complied, the feet of the chair scraping against the tile floor as he dragged it out and sat. Levi placed a signature in the center of the paper, wrapping his name in peaked curves and flowing lines. Then he straightened the pages, returned them to the folder, and slid it into the messenger bag hanging on the back of his chair.  


“What’re you working on?”  


“Warrants,” said Levi, zipping up the bag and turning back to face him. “They have to be filed after lunch. I’m in court all day.”  


He was dressed in a similar fashion to the others Eren had observed on the street; black slacks, white button-up shirt, thin black tie, black jacket draped over the back of his chair. Eren shifted uncomfortably, again all too aware of his own less-than-casual attire.  


His discomfort was interrupted by the waitress, who placed a cup of steaming tea on the table. “Here you go, Levi.” Her eyes lingered on Eren. “I thought when you said a friend would be joining you that it would be Hanji.”  


“I told Hanji I was eating at Rico’s place,” said Levi. “She’s probably still waiting for me.”  


The waitress didn’t smirk, but it was a near thing. Eren labeled her as “Krista” by her name tag. She was small, blonde, and overall adorable.  


“What can I get you?”  


The question was addressed to Eren, and he realized he hadn’t even glanced at the menus folded neatly at the edge of the table.  


“Umm… do you have beer?”  


Krista’s raised eyebrows were a clear negative.  


“Just a coke,” he said quickly. “And just a sandwich, or whatever. I don’t really care.”  


“Uh, okay then.” She glanced at Levi, but his bemused stare was fixed on Eren. “I’ll be back with that in a few.”  


When she was gone Levi said, “Have you ever even been out in public?”  


“Well yeah, of course, I just--”  


“It’s no wonder you drink so much. Sobriety is an extremely awkward shade on you.”  


Eren couldn’t really argue with that so he kept his mouth shut and frowned down at the table.  


“Lighten up, kid,” said Levi. He wrapped his fingers around the rim of his cup and took an unflinching sip of scalding tea. “Why are you so antsy?”  


“I’m not. I’m fine.” Eren pushed his hair back and took a quick look at the café over his shoulder. No one was sitting very close to them. The nearest company was an elderly couple about three tables away who were talking over twin bowls of soup.  


Levi carefully put his cup back on the table, steam still swirling from the surface. “I’m really not going to call the police on you if that’s what you’re worried about.”  


“It’s not! I told you I don't have any warrants.”  


“Right,” said Levi, “but you flinch every time someone mentions the police and it’s not exactly reassuring.”  


Eren winced at the statement and hoped his face didn’t appear as hot as it felt. The sunlight streaming through the windows would reveal his embarrassment much more easily than the dim bar lighting of the night before.  


“It’s not because of that. I’ve never been arrested. I’ve never even broken any laws. It’s just… a personal thing.”  


Levi didn’t push for him to elaborate, but Eren could feel the older man’s stare burning into him, even as his own was fixed on the scratched surface of the table.  


Krista returned with a coke and left it without a word.  


“I used to work for them,” said Eren, his voice so low that Levi barely caught the admission. “I was a cop. Jean was my training officer.”  


Levi had prepared a list of feasible theories that would have acceptably explained the brat’s strange aversion to the police. This was not one of those theories.  


“You did what?” said Levi, thoroughly baffled by the confession. Any logical pieces that he had fitted together to rationalize the situation were abruptly wrenched apart and tossed into a messy, disorderly pile. For the first time in a while, he was genuinely surprised.  


The dark flush reappeared on Eren’s face, flooding his cheeks as he spoke. “I was a cop,” he repeated. “For a few months. After Jean trained me I was his partner. Until I quit.”  


“You were a police officer.” The statement rolled off of Levi’s tongue strangely.  


“Yeah.”  


“If that’s the dark, paradigm-altering secret that you’re guarding with your very life then I have to admit I’m a little disappointed. Why the hell is that such a huge deal?”  


“That’s not the bad part.” Eren’s head was still lowered, dark hair catching in his eyelashes each time he blinked.  


Krista swooped in with their food. She had taken the liberty of choosing a grilled cheese for Eren, nestled onto a plate with a small bowl of tomato soup. Levi had ordered a salad, sprinkled with shrimp and drizzled with vinaigrette.  


Eren mumbled a thank you, not looking up from the table until she’d walked away.  


Levi had already unwrapped his silverware and was stabbing a forkful of spinach. His eyes were on Eren, slate grey and calculating.  


“If it’s that big of a deal,” he said, “just keep it to yourself.” He slid a bite of salad between his lips and crunched quietly.  


Eren shook his head. “No, I promised I’d tell you. I owe you, you stopped Jean from messing with us and you--”  


“I said keep it to yourself.” Levi pressed a napkin to his mouth. “Eat your sandwich. This may be where the elderly go to die but at least they have a decent last meal.”  


With that he turned his full attention to his food, leaving Eren to do the same. The younger man hesitated, torn between wanting to spill his guts on the table between them and the need to carry his troubles to the grave. He settled by tearing off a corner of the sandwich and trailing it through the soup before cramming it in his mouth.  


“Not bad,” he said, reaching for a straw and tapping it against the table until the paper sheath started to give way.  


“It’s a perfect meal for you,” Levi commented. “Grilled cheese is like caviar for twelve year olds. Not only do you look twelve, but your level of maturity seems to correspond.”  


“Yeah, well, you act like you’re about forty,” said Eren, stabbing the straw into his drink and ripping off another chunk of sandwich. “Can’t judge by that, can we?”  


Levi raised an eyebrow but refrained from remarking on the observation.  


“I’m twenty-two,” said Eren through a mouthful of soup and sandwich.  


“Hmm.” Levi continued eating.  


“How old are you?”  


“Old enough to despise that question.”  


“Whatever, you can’t be that much older than me. Twenty-five? Maybe twenty-six?”  


“Wrong. Very wrong.” He speared a piece of shrimp on his fork and examined it.  


Before Eren could press further, the blare of a cell phone erupted from his pocket. He jumped as if he’d been shot at. “Shit,” he hissed, wiping crumbs onto his jeans before retrieving the phone.  


“Hello?”  


He winced as the voice on the other end snapped at him.  


“Jesus, calm down, I’m fine.” Eren stood, holding up a finger to indicate he would only be a moment before he wandered toward the front of the café. “What are you flipping out for?”  


Levi continued munching his salad, disdainfully studying the spray of crumbs that littered Eren’s half of the table.  


“Sorry,” said Eren a minute later as he resumed his seat. He took a gulp of coke and started picking at his sandwich again. “That was my sister. She went by the apartment during her lunch break and freaked out because I was gone.”  


“You live with your sister?”  


Eren’s brows furrowed and he studied the crust between his fingers with a little too much interest. “Yeah. I lost my place a few months ago.”  


“Around the same time you sold your car?”  


Grudgingly Eren looked up, surprised by the comment. “I don’t remember telling you that.”  


“You were plastered. Is your sister the one who was at the bar with you last week?”  


“Yeah, that’s Mikasa. She’s not my real sister, obviously,” he said, in the habit of explaining why his sister was of Asian descent while he very clearly was not. “My family took her in when her parents died. She’s like a real sister, though.”  


When he’d sat back down, Eren had placed his phone on the edge of the table. Levi reached out and took it, examining the screen with interest. “What kind is this?”  


“Oh, uh, an iPhone. One of the older ones, though. I bought it used.” Levi started tapping on the screen and Eren strained to see what he was doing.  


“She’s got balls, I’ll give her that,” said Levi. “Didn’t she already know Kirschtein since he was your partner?”  


“No,” said Eren, relaxing a little when Levi laid his cell back on the table. “I never introduced them. I figured he’d hit on her and she’d hit him… but, you know, in a different way.”  


Levi took another bite and Eren was struck with a sudden recollection.  


“Wait, how do you know him? He acted weird around you, like, less of an ass than usual.”  


Levi took a sip of his tea before answering. “We’ve met a few times in passing. Don’t worry about it.”  


“But why--”  


“We have similar clientele,” said Levi, cutting off the question. “He arrests them and I babysit them. I know all of the officers. Don’t read into it.”  


“But I never met you,” protested Eren. “I was a cop.”  


“Only for a few months. If you’d stayed on longer I’m sure we would’ve run across each other eventually.”  


Eren frowned down at his plate.  


The next time Krista came by to check on them, she left a pair of receipts on the crumb-ridden tabletop. Before she had even walked away Levi grabbed them both and slipped out his wallet.  


“Wait, what are you doing?” said Eren, immediately reaching for his own pocket. “Stop, I’ll get my own.”  


“Shut up,” said Levi, counting out a few bills and tucking them beneath the pair of receipts. “You can’t even afford a decent wardrobe. It’s eight dollars, don’t shit yourself over it.”  


Eren pulled his jacket closed, trying to conceal the faded t-shirt that may have had more than one rip in the fabric. Before he could continue his protests Levi had shrugged into his suit jacket and shouldered his bag.  


“Just say thank you and move on.”  


“Thanks,” mumbled Eren, standing and pushing his chair under the table. He followed Levi onto the sidewalk, wincing when the sun again assaulted his eyes.  


“I have to get back to work,” said Levi. He dipped a hand into the front pocket of his bag and slid on a pair of mirrored sunglasses. “It’s a full docket. I’ll probably be there all fucking night.”  


He started walking away and Eren found himself trailing after him. “Wait,” he said, drawing up alongside him. “I didn’t even tell you the story. I mean, that’s why we’re here. You bought me lunch and I didn’t even tell you.”  


Levi shrugged, pausing on the corner of the street to wait for the light on the pedestrian crossing to turn green. “Doesn’t matter. I told you, if it’s that big of a problem keep it to yourself.”  


As soon as the light changed hues he walked into the road, not bothering to even glance around at the surrounding traffic. Eren did it for him, whipping his head to each side before scrambling to catch up.  


“But I owe you,” he insisted as they merged onto the adjacent sidewalk.  


“You don’t owe me anything,” said Levi. “Go home.”  


The headlights on the Lexus flashed as Levi unlocked the doors and circled around the front bumper. He tossed his bag in and then followed, pulling the door shut and not sparing another glance at Eren, who stood awkwardly on the sidewalk.  


He remained in place as the Lexus slid into traffic and cruised away, the taillights winking at him just before it glided out of view. When he finally walked away, his mind was in a jumble of confused and flustered thoughts. He couldn’t decide how to feel. He had mentally prepared himself to such a degree that he was almost disappointed that he hadn’t revealed his gut-wrenching history.  


Still, it was probably for the best.  


At least Levi was still speaking to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... we almost found out what Eren's problem is. Maybe next time.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading this fic! It means a lot. My day gets a little brighter every time I get a kudo or comment. 
> 
> If anyone has any criticisms about the fic feel free to share that, also. I'm not easily offended, so it's not going to hurt my feelings. If you have any suggestions about how to improve my writing style I'd be thrilled to hear them. 
> 
> In the next chapter Eren really is going to reveal what's going on. I promise.


	10. Hanji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm just going to leave this here.

That evening Eren found himself sitting in the dining room of Mike’s condo, wondering how the hell he’d ended up there. It was the first time he’d been to Mike’s place. He had rudely denied every other invitation he had received. This time, though, he hadn’t been able to think of a good reason to stay home, and he’d been starving.  


“Hey, pass me more rice,” Eren said through a mouthful of food, nudging Mikasa with his elbow.  


Her glare was sharp enough to have Mike wincing from across the table, but Eren had grown immune after years of exposure. Mikasa slid the bowl across the table within his reach and Eren heaped another pile onto his plate. “Thanks. Hey, Mike, did you actually make this or order takeout from the place down the street?”  


“It’s just rice,” said Mike, bemused. “I’m not a great cook but I can make rice.”  


Eren kept eating rather than offering a response. He still felt Mikasa’s stare on him but he didn’t acknowledge her, either. He suspected that Mike had only invited him out of politeness because neither of them had expected him to accept. Mikasa had probably thought she was getting another evening alone with Mike instead of babysitting her little brother.  


Eren swallowed and glanced up at the pair of them. Maybe he should feel bad for being the third wheel, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. Just the thought of them being _together_ made him feel ill.  


His cell buzzed in his pocket and he dropped his fork, reaching for it.  


Mikasa always ate her rice properly, wielding chopsticks as if they were an extension of her hand. Eren’s dexterity wasn’t quite on the same level. If they made tiny shovels for eating it would have been his favorite thing.  


“Spoons,” he muttered to himself, drawing questioning looks from Mike and Mikasa. “Spoons are tiny shovels.”  


He tapped his screen to read the new message he’d received, assuming it was from Armin. He and Mikasa were the only ones that Eren received texts from and Mikasa was a foot away from him.  


The message wasn’t from Armin, though. Eren stared at the screen for a long moment, unable to comprehend the stark black letters. He blinked, stared at his plate, then tried to read it again.  


_Petra wants to know if you’re coming to the bar tonight._  


The number from which the message had been sent was unfamiliar to Eren, but his phone thought differently. The name “Levi” had been registered in his contact list.  


Mikasa lightly shook his shoulder. “Eren? Are you alright?”  


“Yeah,” he said absently, still staring at the phone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He checked the time in the upper corner of the screen. It was a little after seven.  


His thumbs jabbed the screen as he typed a message back.  


_B there soon_  


He stood, the rice on his plate no longer of any interest to him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him to do something or go somewhere. Other than Mike, but he’d probably felt obligated since Eren was his girlfriend’s pathetic little brother.  


And, of course, when Levi had met him for lunch.  


This wasn’t exactly an offer to hang out, though. Petra had probably just been checking up on him. She was nice. That was all it was. Petra had made Levi text him, he probably hadn’t even wanted to.  


But earlier at the café Levi had obviously put his number in Eren’s phone and memorized Eren’s for future reference. That had to mean Levi didn’t completely dislike him.  


Not yet, anyway. He still didn’t know Eren’s story.  


“I’m going to go,” said Eren, eyes still on his phone as he took his jacket off of the back of his chair and started wriggling into it.  


“Is something wrong?” asked Mikasa, her concern evident. “Did something happen?”  


“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just going to meet up with…” he stopped himself from saying ‘a friend’. “…with some people. I’ll be home later.”  


“Do you need me to drive you?”  


“It’s just around the corner,” said Eren, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. The bar was actually closer to Mike’s condo than it was to their apartment. He could walk there in a matter of minutes. “Thanks anyway. Oh, hey, and thanks for the food, Mike. Nice place.”  


“Sure, anytime,” said Mike, looking at Mikasa with obvious confusion.  


Eren didn’t notice. When he became aware that there wouldn’t be a return text he slipped his phone into his pocket and headed toward the door. “Bye!” he called back as he exited and pushed the door shut. He reached for his keys automatically, then reminded himself that he wasn’t at the apartment. There was no need to lock up behind him. Mike would do that when Mikasa left… _if_ Mikasa left.  


Eren pretended that he didn’t know Mike had already asked her to move in with him. He pretended with even more determination that he didn’t know Mikasa probably would have agreed if she hadn’t been forced to take care of her helpless little brother when he’d fallen apart.  


He pretended he didn’t know anything at all and pushed it all out of his mind as he followed the path across Mike’s small front yard and started east on the sidewalk. It was already dark outside. That coupled with the fact that it was Monday night meant that foot traffic was relatively sparse. Eren passed only a few people on the sidewalk, and they were dressed just as badly as he was. This was a decent neighborhood, but it wasn’t as snobby as the downtown area. Eren didn’t feel awkward strolling around in his torn jeans and deteriorating sneakers.  


It only took him ten minutes to reach the bar. He walked in, caught sight of the bartender, and stopped dead in the middle of the room.  


The blonde guy was there, the one that he’d seen working a couple of times before. He was the only one behind the counter. Eren checked the time on his phone, wondering if it had taken him longer to arrive than he’d thought. It was seven-twenty. Hardly any time had passed since he’d received the message. Why would Petra ask about him if she was about to leave anyway? His eyes darted to Levi’s stool, which was also vacant.  


Feeling a little deflated, Eren turned to leave. Before he made it to the door, though, his name was shouted from the far side of the room.  


“Eren! Hey, over here!”  


He turned to find Petra waving at him, halfway out of her seat. She was sitting at a booth along the wall, dressed in nicer clothing than she typically wore to bartend. On the seat across from her was Levi. He still wore his business clothes from earlier but had shed the tie and popped open the top buttons of his shirt to give himself more room to breathe.  


Eren’s mouth almost twitched into a smile as he approached the pair of them. Petra patted the stretch of booth beside of her and Eren moved to join her, but Levi’s hand clamped onto his wrist before he could sit.  


“No way,” he said. “Sit on this side, kid. Last time I shared a booth with Hanji I came away with bruises.”  


Eren wasn’t sure what that meant, but he dropped onto the booth at Levi’s side. Across from him Petra pouted. 

“Uh, who’s Hanji?” asked Eren.  


“She is… well…” Levi shrugged and looked to Petra.  


“Don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “You’ll find out.”  


There was a heavy clunk as drinks were deposited onto the table and then Eren found himself face to face with the bespectacled Hanji.  


“Hellooooo,” she said, drawing the word into three syllables as she leaned close to examine him. Eren pressed himself as close to the back of the booth as he could, trying to expand his personal space. Hanji was undeterred. “You must be Eren!”  


“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”  


“You really are adorable!” exclaimed Hanji, patting Eren’s cheek a few times before finally giving him some room. “I didn’t get you a drink! What do you like? Beer, tequila, water, soda, martini?”  


“Uh…”  


“Just bring him a beer,” said Levi, reaching forward to seize the one that Hanji had delivered for him. “He doesn’t do well with hard liquor.”  


“Okay! I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere! I have questions.”  


With that she spun on her heel and sauntered back toward the counter.  


Eren turned to Levi, feeling as drained as if he’d ran a 5k. He said nothing, but his expression was clear.  


“Yes, she’s always like that,” said Levi, wiping the rim of his bottle.  


“She’s just overexcited,” added Petra. “She’s really nice, though! Once you get used to her you’ll like her, everyone does.”  


Levi grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.  


“So you went to Old People Café today?” said Petra. “I love their French onion soup. What’d you have?”  


“Uh, grilled cheese,” said Eren, sliding his eyes over to Levi as he answered. The older man had obviously told Petra that they had gone to lunch together. He wondered if Levi had mentioned anything else, specifically about his stint with the police department. That wasn’t the piece of his past that shamed him, but he didn’t want the word to spread and the connections to be made. He was almost certain that Levi would have told Petra everything he said, though, despite his discomfort. It had never been explicitly stated that it was a secret. Even if it had, Levi and Petra were clearly close friends. Obviously he would share any collected information with her.  


Eren realized Petra had continued talking only when she paused and waited for him to reply.  


“Umm…”  


“Here you go, Eren!” Hanji thunked a beer bottled down in front of him, making him twitch in surprise. She then plopped down on the seat across from him, not looking away from Eren as she reached for her own drink and took a sip.  


“Thanks,” said Eren, reaching for the beer and pressing the rim to his lips. Before he could take his first swallow Hanji had started again.  


“So Eren,” she said. “You look young, like, really young. How old are you?”  


“You don’t have to answer that,” said Levi, pinning Hanji with a withering glare.  


She was unaffected.  


“It’s fine,” said Eren, recalling the similar conversation that he and Levi had engaged in earlier that day. “I’m twenty-two.”  


Petra’s mouth fell open.  


“You’re just a baby!” said Hanji.  


“Come on, I’m not that young,” said Eren, wondering if his face would ever stop flushing. “You guys aren’t that much older than me.”  


“Petra isn’t,” said Hanji as the bartender clamped her mouth shut. “She’s only… what, twenty-six?” Petra nodded in confirmation. “I only have a couple of years on her, but _Levi_ …”  


“You keep your shitty mouth shut,” snapped Levi, glare intensifying as his eyes narrowed even further.  


Hanji rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “There’s no need to be ashamed, we’ll all be as old as you someday.”  


Eren was still processing the information. Petra’s age he could accept, Hanji’s was even logical, but if Levi was even older than that…  


There was no way that Eren would believe Levi was in his thirties. Not even the early years. There was no way he could’ve been more than five years Eren’s senior. The subject passed before he could find out for sure.  


“So what do you do, Eren?” asked Hanji, continuing her interrogation. “I would guess student but you’re old enough to have graduated already. Unless you’re getting a graduate degree?”  


She leaned closer, so intent on his response that it made him a little uncomfortable.  


“I don’t do anything right now,” he said, shifting under her stare. “I’m between jobs. Taking some, well, time off, I guess.”  


“Refreshing your mind,” Hanji said, nodding. “I can appreciate that. What did you do before?”  


Eren dropped his eyes to his beer. He didn’t want to lie but he didn’t want to be honest, either. It had been difficult enough to share that much with Levi. He wasn’t ready to make it common knowledge.  


“Stop grilling the kid, you’re scaring him,” said Levi, flicking his bottle cap at Hanji. It bounced off of her arm harmlessly. “He doesn’t like to talk as much as you do. No one likes to talk as much as you do. Just drink your fruity bitch drink and shut up.”  


Eren expected Hanji to be offended, but she just laughed. “Oh Levi, you’re so charming, as always.” She sipped her drink then almost spat it back out. “Oh! I just remembered something that happened today! Listen to this, you’ll never believe it. So earlier in the lab, we were--”  


Hanji went on a tangent about corrosive chemicals and compromised evidence. Eren was a little lost until Levi leaned over and mumbled, “She works in the crime lab processing samples and evidence. She’s the most irritating human who has ever existed, but even I have to admit she’s brilliant.”  


Eren tuned back in to Hanji to hear her blurt out a string of words that Eren couldn’t have pronounced if he’d tried. He wisely chose to sit back and drink his beer, allowing Hanji to ramble. When she got to the height of the story she cackled, elbowing Petra in the ribs as she nearly collapsed under the weight of her laughter. Petra winced from the impact and reproachfully looked at Levi, who pretended not to notice.  


Eren understood the comment about bruising.  


Two beers later Petra was telling Eren the story of how she and Levi met. “And then the boss told me someone had complained about me,” she said, “and I was super upset. So I said, ‘What did I do?’ And he looked at me and said, just flat out said, ‘For being too friendly.’ So of course I immediately knew the complaint was from that grumpy man who hadn’t left me a tip. So the next time he came in I met him at the door and hugged him and said ‘Welcome back! I missed you!’ And I was so sure he was about to hit me that I started backing away and tripped and fell on my butt in the floor.”  


She broke off with a string of giggles. Hanji laughed beside her, slumped over the table and holding her stomach. Levi appeared particularly unamused.  


It was with a jolt of surprise that Eren realized he was laughing, too. He slapped a hand over his mouth, containing the unfamiliar sound. His humor died quickly as he tried to remember the last time he’d been in a mood that allowed laughter. He couldn’t.  


He put his beer back on the table, suddenly wishing he hadn’t come. He didn’t belong there among the others who so clearly had their lives together. He didn’t deserve to sit there with them, leeching off of their happiness because he was incapable of creating his own. It was kind that they were including him, but it wouldn’t last. If he’d had the balls to tell Levi everything earlier then they wouldn’t be treating him with such warm acceptance. They would want him gone. Just like Jean had wanted him gone. Just like everyone wanted him gone.  


“Of course he helped me up,” said Petra, wiping the corner of her eyes with her sleeve. “And I must have apologized ten times before he finally told me to shut up. But he left me a twenty dollar tip that night and we’ve been best friends ever since!”  


“‘Best friends’ is pushing it,” said Levi. “You’re the one who serves me alcohol so I tolerate you.” He checked his watch and tilted back the last of his beer. He had only drunk two. “I’m going home. I actually have a job to go to tomorrow. You want a ride, kid?”  


Eren emerged from his thoughts when he realized he was being addressed. “Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.” He stood, allowing Levi to slide out of the booth. “Thanks for the drinks, Hanji,” said Eren. “I really will pay you for them.”  


“Nonsense!” said Hanji, leaping to her feet. “I’ll buy my new little friend some cheap beer if I want.” She enfolded Eren into a hug before he could resist. The air was crushed from his lungs beneath the force of the embrace. “It was great to meet you! We’re going out this weekend with some of our other friends.” She freed him from the hug and held him at arm’s length. “You’ll come, won’t you? You’ll love them! They’ll love you! Everyone will love everyone!”  


“Stop it, Hanji,” Levi said, stepping forward to yank Eren away from her. “You’re scaring him again.”  


“Bye Eren!” said Petra, waving at him with a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”  


“Sure,” he said, lifting a hand in return. “Bye, Petra. Bye, Hanji, it was nice to meet you.” He turned to find that Levi was already halfway to the door. A few long strides carried him across the floor and they reached the exit at nearly the same time. Levi reached for the door and held it open, waiting for Eren to step through. Reluctantly, Eren traded the warmth of the bar for the nighttime chill. He followed Levi through the parking lot with steady, even steps. Typically when he left the bar it was with the balance of a blindfolded bear on a tightrope. Now he was nearly as sober as he’d been when he went in, without even a bruised rib or a black eye to show for the night.  


It could have been considered an improvement. Instead, Eren felt a sense of loss. The last few months had been devoted to creating the person who stayed out all night and got so wasted that he couldn’t remember where all of his injuries had come from.  


At least that person would return soon. When Levi knew, he certainly wouldn’t want to interact with Eren anymore. None of them would. Eren could go back to that drunken stupor that carried him through a life of shame.  


“Check your shoes before you get in,” said Levi. This time when he leaned over to retrieve his gun from the floor mat he stowed it in the glove box rather than walking it back to the trunk.  


Eren pressed a hand against the side of the car for balance and looked at the bottom of his shoes, one at a time. They seemed to be clean enough. He got in the car and reached for the seat belt, buckling himself in before Levi could tell him to.  


“Sorry about Hanji,” said Levi as he backed the car out. “She gets overexcited.”  


“It’s fine,” said Eren. “She was nice. I like her.”  


Levi grumbled something under his breath and guided the car onto the road.  


The two of them didn’t speak during the drive. Eren remembered the last time Levi had driven him home. As a ‘thank you’ he had verbally lashed out, his state of drunkenness seizing control of his mouth. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would make a more disastrous one.  


Only a few minutes passed before Levi pulled to a stop beside the sidewalk at the front of the apartment complex.  


Eren made no move to get out of the car.  


“It’s ten o’clock,” said Levi, shifting in his seat to face Eren. “Say whatever you need to say.”  


Eren’s chest expanded with the ragged breath that he sucked into his lungs. After the night that he’d had, a night surrounded by people who were almost like friends, telling Levi was the last thing he wanted to do. But after the night that he’d had, aware that all of it was temporary, it was the only thing that he could do.  


“Jean and I were friends,” said Eren. He lowered his head and stared at his hands, his fingers tightly interlaced and tucked between his knees. “Good friends. When I started the job I was paired with him. We didn’t like each other at first, but we learned to get along. I liked working with him. I liked hanging out with him. I mean, we were friends. I trusted him. So that’s why I told him. I thought it would be fine, I mean… we were _friends_.”  


Levi said nothing. Without looking away from Eren’s lowered face he reached out and cut off the car’s headlights. The lights on the dash dimmed as well, leaving them bathed in a faint glow. Despite the darkness he could still see the lines that creased Eren’s forehead, the kid’s face strained beneath his reluctance.  


“So I told him. I didn’t think it was a big deal. But I was wrong, and he told everyone on our shift and they kept hounding at me and doing things to me and… I had to quit. They didn’t want me there and I didn’t belong there.” He chanced a sideways glance at Levi, whose attention was unwavering, before again dropping his eyes. “I’ve wanted to be a cop since I was a kid. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I put myself through the academy and I was thrilled when I actually got hired. It was the best job I’ve ever had, the only job I’ll ever want. Knowing that I can’t do it… I mean, it’s just hard. That’s the real problem. I wake up every day knowing that I’ll never be able to do it and it just hurts.”  


Still Levi said nothing, waiting patiently for him to continue.  


It was a few long moments before Eren spoke again.  


“Mikasa and Armin never cared. I thought that meant that maybe other people would be okay with it, too. But I was wrong. I was stupid and I was wrong.” He pried his hands apart and threaded one of them into the side of his hair, using his arm to shield himself from Levi. “I…” he tried to say it, but the words died on his tongue. He swallowed and his throat felt dry, as if coated with sand. His hand fell limply back into his lap. “I’m… gay.” The word hung between them for a moment, shattering the wall that Eren had spent so much time building around himself. When he started speaking again the words were rushed, desperate. “I’ve tried not to be, I really have, and I just can’t help it. I mean, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s awful and I’m disgusting, I know, plenty of people have already told me. Jean and everyone else made that clear, and they made it clear that I can’t be a cop. Cops are straight and tough and everything that I can’t be. So I don’t get to be anything that I want to be and it’s not fair because I can’t fucking change it and it’s not fucking fair.”  


Eren clumsily released his seat belt and fumbled for the door handle. “And I’m sorry,” he started, his voice breaking, “that I made you talk to me and that I hung out with your friends. I should’ve just minded my own business and kept away from you.” He blinked once, hard, and hot tears bled from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything.” Without looking at Levi he hastily shoved the door open and stepped onto the sidewalk. Just before he slung the door shut, he mumbled, “Thanks for the ride.”  


With that he turned and started toward the apartments at a brisk walk, his teeth clenched together so tightly in an effort to keep himself from crying that his jaw ached. He kept his eyes on the pavement beneath his feet, head down, expecting Levi to jump out of his car and follow him with stinging words and that same disgusted expression that had twisted Jean’s face when Eren had confided in him.  


Eren started walking more quickly, taking the corner of the apartment building at a near run. When a solid wall stood between him and the Lexus, Eren leaned a shoulder against the bricks and tried to catch his breath. He found that every time he tried to breathe too deeply it turned into something that resembled a sob. It was pathetic. He was pathetic.  


He tried to piece himself back together and started walking again, away from the apartments, away from the Lexus that was still sitting in the parking lot, its driver stunned into immobility. If Mikasa was home, he didn’t want her to see him like that. Then there would be questions, and having to explain it would make everything worse. Instead he headed for the nearest bar, the one that had the designated junkie room in the back. He didn’t care what the fuck else they did as long as they served him alcohol.  


He’d only had three beers. If he was going to drink himself into oblivion he had a lot of catching up to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's disappointed with the secret? *raises hand* Not much of a secret since everyone knew where it was headed anyway.
> 
> I don't know how much other areas discriminate, but where I live you don't tell people if you're gay. You just don't do it. If you are, you keep it to yourself. It's narrow-minded and offensive and insulting, but that's genuinely how people here think. I've literally seen someone get beaten so badly that they were hospitalized because he was seen kissing another guy.
> 
> You'd think that civilized countries would be above this by now.
> 
> That's the kind of atmosphere that I'm trying to reflect here and I hope it doesn't come off as overly dramatic.


	11. Ten-Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to give a general "Thank You" to everyone who gave me feedback on the last chapter. I was worried about posting it because I knew there would be mixed feelings, and I was right. I do appreciate everyone's opinions, though. You're all rock stars.
> 
> Also, I don't know if there needs to be a warning, but the "F" word is used in this chapter, and I don't mean Fuck. So there you go.

“And that,” concluded Jean, “is the story of Eren Jaeger.”  


Marco stood in silence, mulling over the tale that Jean had spent the past half hour telling him. They were in the parking lot of the police department, leaning against the side of the cruiser. The other spaces were vacant.  


“Oh,” Marco finally said. He watched a car crawl by, the glare of its headlights making him squint. “So he’s the one I replaced, then.”  


“Yeah,” said Jean. He spat tobacco juice onto the pavement. “Lucky for me. You’re much better company.”  


Marco tried to smile at the compliment but found that his face wouldn’t comply. “Was he a bad officer?”  


“Surprisingly no, he was decent. One of the best I’ve trained based on performance. Throw him in a high-stress situation and he doesn’t even blink.”  


“Unlike me,” mumbled Marco, staring at the dark spot on the ground where Jean was spitting.  


“It takes time,” Jean said, slapping Marco lightly on the shoulder. He barely even felt it through the layer of Kevlar beneath his uniform. “You’ll be fine, really. You’re improving.”  


Marco frowned. He knew Jean was lying; he was doing no better now than he’d done when he first started. He was putting all that he had into the job, but it just wasn’t enough. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t doing better. Now that he knew how well Eren Jaeger had done with his training, it made him feel worse. Actually, everything about Eren’s story made him feel awful.  


Jean didn’t seem to notice the shift in his partner’s mood. The radio crackled, a female voice feeding through his earpiece. He pressed the button and responded, “Ten-four, ten-nineteen.”  


“What’s ten-nineteen?” asked Marco.  


The flat stare he received made him regret the question.  


“You should know the codes by now,” said Jean. “Think about it. What did she ask?”  


“Uh, ten-twenty… Our location?”  


“Right. And where are we?”  


“Uh…” he looked over at the door that led to the patrol room. “Oh, it means PD.”  


“Basically, yeah. We’ll have a quiz on the codes later. Be prepared.”  


Marco winced at the thought just as another pair of headlights flashed over them. A marked cruiser swung into the lot and slid neatly into the space adjacent to them. When the door opened it was a woman who stepped out, her light hair pulled into a messy bun above the back collar of her uniform.  


“I heard the twenty-nine check,” she said. “Did you take him in?”  


“Nah,” said Jean. “I wanted to but I also didn’t want to have to write a detailed report… if you know what I mean.”  


“You mean you punched him in the face,” said Annie. “What’d you do with him?”  


“He’s in the back. I wanted to leave him on the sidewalk but Marco felt bad for him.”  


“Well we couldn’t just leave him there!” Marco protested. “People in that part of the city are shady. Anything could have happened to him.”  


Marco was shoved out of the way and Annie cupped her hands around her eyes, peering into the backseat of their cruiser. “It’s too dark,” she complained. “I can barely see him.” She detached a flashlight from her belt and shone it into the car. “Damn, Jean. You knocked the kid out.”  


“It was his own fault. He was drunk and yelling and he started swinging at me. Right, Marco?”  


“Umm…”  


“Oh shit,” said Annie. She clicked the flashlight off and took a step back. “I think I woke him up.”  


A low groan punctuated her statement. The three of them stared at the car.  


“What are you planning to do with him?”  


“I don’t know. Like I said, I would’ve left him lying there, but Marco…”  


“We couldn’t have left him, it wasn’t the right thing to do.”  


“Everything in life isn’t about doing the right thing. Just ask Annie, she’s the most cold-hearted bitch I’ve ever met.”  


“You’d best watch your mouth, Kirschtein, or I swear I’ll--”  


“Fuck.” The voice was muffled by the steel door, but the statement was clear.  


“Annie, you take care of this,” said Jean.  


“Fuck that, you’re the one who picked him up.”  


“But this,” said Jean, pressing a finger against the double stripes on his sleeve, “means I rank higher than you. So you have to follow my orders.”  


“No, that,” said Annie, punching him in the arm hard enough to make him wince, “means you’ve been here long enough to get an automatic promotion. You didn’t earn it, Corporal. So suck it up and take care of your ten-fifteen. Besides, he never liked me. I’ll only make it worse.”  


“Well he definitely doesn’t like me!” Jean protested. “I’ll just end up hitting him again and then we’ll be back to square one.”  


The cruiser rocked slightly as its cargo shifted around. The voice spoke up again. “What the fuck?”  


“Marco,” said Jean, “you deal with this. It’s good for your training.”  


“What? What am I supposed to do with him?”  


“I don’t know, figure it out. If you want to be an officer then you need to be prepared for anything.”  


“But Jean…”  


“Is that insubordination?”  


Marco’s expression was so helpless that Jean almost retracted the command. Instead he yanked open the car door and said, “It’s all yours, Bodt.”  


“Hey, what’s going on? Let me out of here.” The body in the backseat started writhing around, feet flailing. “Why are my hands stuck? Am I cuffed? Who fucking cuffed me?”  


“Umm, sir, please calm down,” said Marco, hunching over so he could see into the car. Annie and Jean exchanged an incredulous look in response to his politeness.  


“Don’t tell me to calm down, I’ll calm the fuck down when I know what’s going on.” He raised up, the position awkward since his hands were trapped behind his back. “Who do you think you… wait… son of a bitch, you’re a cop.” His head whipped around, finding the sheet of plexiglass that separated him from the front of the car. “Oh no. Oh shit.” He stopped straining against his restraints and collapsed back onto the seat. “Fuck me.”  


“Of course that’s the first thing on his mind,” muttered Jean. Annie grinned wickedly beside him.  


“Everything is okay, sir,” said Marco, leaning slightly into the car. “It’s Eren, right? Do you feel okay?”  


“I feel fan-fucking-tastic,” he grumbled. “Who hit me in the face?”  


Marco peered through the bars on the window and found Jean smirking.  


“I don’t know,” said Marco, “it happened before we arrived on-scene. Can you sit up?”  


It took him a couple of tries, but Eren managed to wriggle himself into a sitting position. His head was pounding, but he was still drunk enough to mostly ignore it. After a couple more shots he wouldn’t even feel it. “Are we still at the bar?” he asked. “I need a drink.”  


“Umm, I think that’s the last thing you need,” said Marco. “We’re at the PD.”  


Eren seemed to deflate. “So I guess you’re arresting me? P.I.?”  


“No, we’re not charging you,” said Marco. “We took you into custody for your own safety. Once you sober up a little you’ll be free to go.”  


“Oh.” Eren seemed rather unaffected by the news. “Can you uncuff me then?”  


“Uh…” Marco looked to Jean, who failed to offer him a response. “Sure, I guess that’s okay. Can you turn around?”  


Eren managed to shift so that his back was toward the door. Marco fished the small key out of his pocket and leaned into the car, clumsily triggering the locks and releasing the cuffs. He withdrew and returned the handcuffs to the pouch on the back of his belt. Eren rubbed at his wrists, his head lowered so that much of his face was covered by hair. The skin left visible was burning red, the embarrassed flush extending to his neck.  


“I don’t know you,” said Eren without looking up. “Who’re you?”  


“I’m Marco.”  


“Officer Bodt,” Jean corrected, spitting on the ground.  


“Officer Bodt,” repeated Marco. “You can just call me Marco, though.”  


Jean sighed, exasperated.  


“Pink slip,” Annie mumbled. “Anytime now.”  


“He’s getting better,” Jean hissed back.  


“His next FTO is Reiner,” she said. “He trained me. He’ll eat Bodt alive.”  


“He’ll be fine.”  


“Whatever,” said Annie. “You inviting him to my place this weekend? It’s supposed to be our shift only… I guess technically he’s part of the shift for right now. You know, until he gets cut.”  


“He’s not going to get cut,” said Jean, making sure Marco was still too occupied with Jaeger to overhear. “Of course I’m inviting him, I sure can’t trust any of you fuckers to make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit.”  


“Fair enough. I would just step back and take pictures for the wall of shame.” Annie adjusted her duty belt, shifting her gun so it wasn’t digging into her hipbone. “I’m going to go look for prostitutes on Rose Avenue. Feel free to join me once you get Jaeger here taken care of.”  


“Wear gloves,” said Jean as she returned to her car. “You don’t wanna catch anything.”  


Annie pulled the car door shut and Jean heard her voice in his earpiece as she informed dispatch of her destination.  


Marco was still chatting with Eren. He had perched on the edge of the backseat rather than continuing to uncomfortably lean into the vehicle. Jean caught just enough of the conversation to jump in. “We are not driving him home,” he snapped, peering at the pair of them with narrowed eyes. “This isn’t a fucking taxi service.”  


Eren finally looked up, recoiling when he recognized the angry voice. He shifted further away in the seat, stopping only when his back was pressed against the opposite door. “You,” he muttered, pulling his knees to his chest and curling into an upright ball. “I wouldn’t let you drive me anywhere anyway. I’d rather just go to jail.”  


“Well that can be arranged, you ungrateful little shit,” said Jean. “I was trying to help you out here.”  


“Because you’re such a great person,” said Eren. “Always looking out for everyone. A fucking saint.”  


“I did everything for you, Jaeger.” He leaned over Marco so his glare could find its target. “I taught you everything you know. You’re the one who went and fucked it up so don’t blame me for your problems, you little faggot.”  


Eren flinched as if he’d been shot. Marco shoved Jean back and stood, blocking off the backseat. “Stop it, Jean,” he said, his tone as close to angry as Jean had ever heard it. “You can’t talk to him like that. You can’t talk to anyone like that. You’re supposed to protect and serve, not belittle and humiliate. I’m the one who’s driving tonight, and if I say we’re taking him home then we’re taking him home, okay?”  


Marco’s cheeks, dusted with a spray of freckles, were bright red. Jean didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or anger, but either way that was the most assertive his trainee had ever been.  


“Okay,” said Jean. It didn’t matter how averse he was to Eren Jaeger. He wasn’t going to stamp out the only marginally dominant behavior that Marco had ever expressed. If he didn’t learn to do it more often he was never going to make it on the job, and Jean really wanted him to make it. “Whatever you say, officer. You’re in charge.”  


With that he circled around the open car door and pulled open the passenger side, taking a seat without another word. Marco’s indignance faded into surprise. He looked back into the car at Eren, who was still curled up like a pill bug. He stepped back and shut the door, careful not to slam it. When he’d rounded the rear bumper and was situated in the driver’s seat, he peered into the rearview mirror at his reluctant passenger. “Where do you live, Eren?”  


The response was a mumble, his slur evident, but Marco interpreted the location. He spared a glance at Jean, who was sitting passively with his arms folded.  


“Do I need to check in with dispatch?” asked Marco. “They need to know where I’m going, right?”  


“Technically yeah, you should,” said Jean. “But we’re not allowed to escort anyone without a sergeant’s permission. I don’t really want to explain to Shadis what’s going on, do you?”  


Marco shook his head. “But I won’t get in trouble?”  


“I won’t tell if you won’t.”  


Twenty minutes later the police car idled in front of Shiganshina apartment complex. Marco climbed out and opened the door for Eren, who stepped onto the pavement on unsteady feet. He started forward and tripped over the edge of the sidewalk. Marco grabbed him by the arm and barely kept him upright.  


“Hang on,” said Marco, carefully releasing him and pulling the driver door open again. “I’m going to make sure he gets in okay, he can barely walk without falling.”  


“Fuck him,” said Jean. “We’ve already done more than we should have. He can manage.”  


“I’m going to make sure he’s alright,” said Marco, ignoring his partner’s attitude. “I’ll be back in a minute.”  


It was a painfully slow trek, but the two of them made it to the second floor. Marco escorted Eren down the hall, gripping Eren’s upper arm to keep him on his feet. It was the way that Jean had taught him to hold onto drunken arrestees to keep them steady and stay in control. Eren hadn’t been arrested, but he was definitely still drunk.  


When they made it to Eren’s door he dug his key out of his pocket and tried to insert it into the lock. After half a dozen attempts Marco took pity on his struggle and did it for him.  


“Thanks,” mumbled Eren as the door opened.  


“No problem,” said Marco. “Are you going to be alright?”  


“Fine,” he said. “I’ve been worse off.”  


“Okay then.” Eren stepped toward the door but Marco stopped him. “Hey, wait. Jean told me what happened with you back when you worked together. Just… don’t let it get to you, alright? There’s nothing wrong with it.”  


“Fuck you,” snapped Eren. “I don’t care if you took my place, you’re not going to stand there and make fun of me to my face.”  


“No, wait,” Marco said quickly. “I wasn’t trying to—I didn’t--”  


Before he could explain himself Eren shut the door in his face. Marco stood there for a moment, trying to figure out if he’d said something wrong.  


A static-ridden voice filtered through the radio. “All available units, prepare to copy a BOLO.”  


“Damn it,” Marco muttered under his breath. He turned away from the door and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He was down the stairs by the time the dispatcher provided a description and Marco started taking notes on his palm.  


Jean had claimed the driver’s seat and was leaning halfway out of the open window when Marco came into view.  


“Jesus, hurry up!” he shouted. “We haven’t put anyone in jail all night, let’s get a fucking move on!”


	12. Wrong Number

Eren didn’t remember much of the next few days. He made it his mission in life to drink enough alcohol to erase every memory he’d made over the past six months. Unfortunately, when he woke up Friday morning halfway to sober, he recalled more of his life than he would have liked.  


“Fucking cops,” he mumbled into the couch cushion, wiping a trail of drool off of his chin with the back of his hand. “Fucking Kirschtein.” He dragged himself upright and put his feet on the floor, hunkering down and letting his head hang between his knees. His arms were wrapped around his stomach and he tried to decide if he was going to puke. Each time his head throbbed he became a little more certain that he would. “Fucking hangover.”  


When he finally raised his head he realized he’d become a spectacle for public viewing. Mike and Mikasa were seated at the table in the kitchen, their meal suspended as they watched him.  


“Uh, hey, Eren,” said Mike, trying to sound pleasant. “How’s it going?”  


Eren groaned and dropped his head back between his knees. “Fuck.”  


“That good, huh?”  


“What time is it?”  


“Five-thirty,” said Mikasa, her voice flat. “You’ve been asleep for sixteen hours.”  


“Oh.”  


“You want some food?” asked Mike. “Mikasa made garlic shrimp pasta.”  


That settled Eren’s inner debate about vomiting. Ten seconds later he was heaving over the toilet, the bitter taste of bile making his gagging worse. Mentally he still cursed Jean Kirschtein and alcohol and his life in general, but he couldn’t catch his breath long enough to do so verbally.  


When his stomach had finally been emptied, Eren flushed the toiled and collapsed on the bathroom floor, shivering beneath the combination of the freezing tile and the cold sweat that drenched his shaking body.  


Twenty minutes later the sound of his cell phone ringing woke him from an uneasy doze. He pawed at his pocket, finally freeing the phone in time to see that the call was from a wrong number.  


“Fucking idiot,” he mumbled, pressing the “Ignore” button and shoving it back into his pocket. He sat up with a groan and a dark fleece blanket fell away from him, pooling onto the floor. He stared at it for a moment, dumbfounded, before he realized that Mikasa must have slipped in and covered him up.  


A sharp pang of guilt struck him, and he was again reminded of what an inconvenience he’d become to his sister. She had a good life, but if he hadn’t come crawling to her doorstep she would’ve had a better one. Eren didn’t like Mike, but Mikasa did. Although he wanted them to be wrong for each other, Eren couldn’t deny that, overall, Mike was a decent person. He treated Mikasa well, which was really all that Eren could ask for. If he hadn’t been in the way the two of them could have a real relationship, spending their evenings together and going on dates and not having their meals interrupted by a severely hung-over little brother who ruined the mood of their dinner by puking his guts out.  


Slowly Eren dragged himself to his feet, grabbing a handful of blanket and taking it with him. Mikasa was on the couch, Mike beside her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Their quiet conversation stopped as Eren emerged from the bathroom.  


“Sorry,” he said, keeping his eyes averted. “I’ll just, uh… be in here.”  


He shuffled to Mikasa’s bedroom and shut himself in, immediately dropping into a heap on the floor with his back against the wall. He could’ve stretched out on her bed, but it was so meticulously made that he didn’t want to ruin it. He’d ruined enough things for the day and he’d barely been conscious.  


His phone started ringing again, and he spat a string of curses as he leaned sideways and fished it out again. It was the same number. They should have gotten the hint when their last call had gone to his voicemail. It was set up with his name; they knew they’d dialed incorrectly.  


Irritated, he answered the call with a brusque, “Wrong number.”  


“Eren, hi!” said the caller, unbothered by the rude greeting.  


He hesitated, caught off guard. “Umm… Hanji?”  


“Yes! It’s good to hear from you again. You sound a little rough, are you feeling alright?”  


“Yeah, I’m peachy,” mumbled Eren. “How’d you get my number?”  


“Levi gave it to me,” she said. “He’s tied up at work so he asked me to call you instead. We’re going out tonight if you’re up for it!”  


“He asked you to call me?” Eren repeated, unable to comprehend the statement. Levi shouldn’t be contacting him. He’d assumed his name and number had already been deleted from Levi’s phone. “Are you sure?”  


“Of course I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I be sure?”  


He wasn’t sure how to respond to that question so he followed it with another. “Where are you guys going?”  


“Well we were going to play laser tag, but when I called earlier to make reservations they said they were booked up, which is really unfortunate because there are a lot of teenagers there on Friday nights and most of them suck and if you beat them badly enough they sometimes cry,” she said, not pausing to take a breath. “Since we can’t do that, though, I called the bowling alley on the East side of town and they have lanes open so I booked us one so that’s where we’re going!”  


“Bowling,” Eren repeated, trying to process everything that she’d said. “You’re going bowling. Levi bowls.”  


“It’s not exactly his favorite,” she admitted, “but he goes. So what do you say? Are you up for it?”  


“Umm…” Eren hesitated, unsure. For one thing he felt like absolute shit. More importantly, he was almost certain Hanji had made a mistake. There was no way that Levi would have instructed her to invite him. There was no way that Levi would want anything else to do with him. Even if he hadn’t yet told his friends what Eren had said, it wouldn’t be long until he spilled the secret, and then he would be ridiculed all over again. “Thanks for calling,” he finally said, “but I think I’ll pass.”  


“Eren, come _oooonnnn_.” She dragged the word out for so long that he was impressed by the capacity of her lungs. “You have to come! If you don’t there will be five of us and that’s an odd number!”  


“It’s bowling. You don’t need an even number for bowling.”  


“It’s unlucky!” Hanji insisted. “I’ll pay your way in and everything if you’ll just show up, come on, it’ll be fun! I promise!”  


“No, you don’t have to pay for me,” he said. “That’s not what I meant.”  


“Then why don’t you want to?”  


“Uh…” There was quite a pressing reason, but he didn’t feel it was something that could be properly explained over the phone. Even if it were, he had already stripped himself to the skeleton of his past once that week. He wasn’t ready to do it again so soon. Maybe never.  


Hanji took his silence as acquiescence. “So you’ll go then? Great! We’re meeting there at eight, do you need a ride?”  


“No, that’s fine, don’t worry about it.”  


“Alright then! See you there, bye, Eren!”  


She hung up and Eren lowered his phone, trying to figure out when he had actually agreed to go. He was fairly certain he hadn’t. Just the thought of facing Levi again made his stomach churn. Fortunately there was nothing left for him to vomit up.  


Maybe this was all a ploy that Levi and his friends had put together. They would get Eren to meet them and then band together to publicly humiliate him. He wondered if Levi had spoken to Jean and borrowed some of his tactics. He had plenty to spare.  


Though he wanted to cling to that idea as a reason to stay home and avoid all of them for the rest of his life, he couldn’t bring himself to expect that sort of behavior from Hanji. He’d only met her once, but she was so vibrant and joyful and outspoken that he couldn’t imagine her being part of something so dark and cruel. If she said that Levi had asked her to call, then Eren supposed he had to believe her.  


That didn’t make him any more eager to see Levi again. It still made him want to crawl underneath a rock.  


He checked the time. If he decided to go – if – then he still had quite a bit of time before he would have to leave. He figured that at least an hour of that time could be devoted to sleep. Maybe when he woke up he would feel less like a living, breathing piece of shit.  


Eren set the alarm on his phone and shuffled over to Mikasa’s bed on his hands and knees. He pushed aside his reluctance to desecrate her neatly tucked sheets and clambered onto the mattress, curling up in the middle of the bed and letting his eyes close. He wasn’t sure if he was even capable of sleeping just then. His brain was too busy trying to figure out why he’d been invited out with Levi’s friends and why Levi even still wanted to see him and why Levi had kept his phone number. There was no way he could go to sleep. It was impossible.  


An hour later Eren’s alarm went off. He was so startled that he nearly rolled off the edge of the bed as he flailed, his mind still trapped in the dark tendrils of a dream he could no longer remember. As he shed the heavy feeling and remembered who and where he was, he grabbed for his phone and shut off the screaming. He stood and stretched, and although a bolt of pain ricocheted around the inside of his skull, it was much more bearable than it had been an hour prior. His nausea was also muted, barely detectable. With a sigh of relief he walked toward the door, pleased that he could move upright without pitching unsteadily from side to side.  


He entered the living room to find Mike and Mikasa still on the couch, in a similar position to the one they’d been in earlier. Mike’s arm was still around her shoulders. Eren pretended not to see the disarray of Mikasa’s hair or notice that her lips were slightly swollen.  


“Eren, how are you feeling?” she asked, shifting forward a little, as if prepared to catch him if he started to stumble.  


“Better, thanks,” he said. “Hey, after I shower would you mind driving me over to the East side? Some people invited me out.”  


Her concerned expression hardened. “People,” she repeated. “Are they the same people that you were with on Tuesday when the police had to escort you home?”  


Eren winced a little. He’d been so drunk when he’d gotten home that night that he hadn’t been able to keep himself from telling Mikasa about the incident with Jean and Marco.  


“Well yeah,” he admitted, aware that she would pick up on even the smallest lie, “but I wasn’t with them when that happened. They’re the ones from that bar we went to, Titan’s Tankard. They won’t even let me drink liquor when I’m there, they only give me beer. It was after I left there that I got… you know.”  


“Plastered?” suggested Mike.  


He was ignored.  


“If they are the ones at the bar then why are you going to East side?” asked Mikasa.  


“They’re going bowling,” he answered, feeling ridiculous for even voicing it. It was almost more embarrassing than the police incident from Tuesday night. “They invited me. If you’ll drop me off there I’ll be gone for a while and you and Mike can spend some time together. You know, without me hanging around. I’m sure one of them will give me a ride back.”  


He tried to remain unflinching beneath her calculating stare. Tossing in the possibility of alone time tilted the odds in his favor. He knew from Mike’s expression that the detective was already sold on the idea.  


“Fine,” said Mikasa. “Clean up and get ready and I’ll drive you. But the next time you get dropped off in the middle of the night by a police car because you’re too busy wallowing in self-pity to take care of yourself I will be done with you. You’re my brother and I care deeply for you but I will only put up with so much. Is that understood, Eren?”  


Eren nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A filler chapter? What? Don't be ridiculous.


	13. Bowling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last chapter broke 1000 hits, which might not be a ton for some people, but I am thrilled.
> 
> So thanks for that. ^^

Eren walked into the bowling alley at exactly eight o’clock. It was noisy but not too crowded, and it smelled like hot dogs. He stepped to the counter and tried to find Hanji or Levi or Petra, but most of the lanes weren’t visible from where he stood.

“Can I help you?”

The man who approached was big, burly, and bearded. 

“Uh, I’m meeting some friends here.”

“Name?”

“Their name or my name?”

The man’s expression was flat. “Their name.”

Eren hesitated as he realized he didn’t know the last names of anyone he was meeting. The man appeared to be growing impatient so he offered an uncertain, “Hanji?”

“Oh, that loudmouthed woman,” the man grumbled. “She’s paid for everything already. What size shoes do you need?”

“Probably ten.”

The man turned and grabbed a pair from the cubbies that covered the wall behind him and slapped them down on the counter. “Here. Your party is on the end, as far from everyone else as I could put them. Lane one.”

“Thanks.” 

Eren took the shoes and started in the indicated direction. He passed several groups of bowlers. Some were families with overexcited children, some were clusters of teenagers who were more concerned with their cell phones than the actual activity, and at the very end, in one of the plastic seats lining the wall, was Levi.

All of the air in the room disappeared. Eren’s steps faltered. He almost lost his resolve and turned to flee back out the door, away from the judgment and cynicism that he knew was waiting for him. Why had he decided to come anyway? It was a bad idea. It was probably the worst idea he’d ever had. 

Hanji spotted him before he could duck away.

“Eren!” she called, giving an exaggerated wave. “Over here!”

He sucked in a ragged breath, resigned himself to the shame, and closed the distance between them.

Apparently Hanji didn’t think he was moving quickly enough. She met him halfway and slung an arm over his shoulders, half dragging him to their lane. “Come on, let me introduce you!” she said. She tugged him to a stop. “This is Eld. Have you met him yet? He works at the bar with Petra, you’ve probably seen him.” 

The blond man raised a hand in greeting and Eren nodded back. 

“And this,” continued Hanji, “is my newest lab tech! Eren, this is Moblit. Moblit, Eren. He’s a baby just like you, Eren, so you won’t feel too uncomfortable among us old folks.”

“You’re not old yet,” said Moblit, shaking his head at Hanji’s statement. He stepped forward and extended a hand. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, hey, you too,” said Eren, transferring his borrowed shoes to his other hand before reaching out to engage in the handshake. Eren thought that they may have been the same age, but if anything he thought Moblit appeared a little younger. 

“Sit down and change into your fancy bowling shoes, we’ll get started in just a minute!” said Hanji.

Eren obeyed, hesitantly dropping into the seat beside Levi. He wanted to check the older man’s expression but couldn’t bring himself to look directly at him. He kicked off his shoes and was in the process of lacing up the borrowed ones when Levi spoke.

“Disgusting.”

Eren flinched from the single word, unable to keep himself from hearing it echoed in Jean Kirschtein’s voice. He peered up, expecting Levi’s expression to match the sentiment, but found that he was staring at Eren’s shoes. 

“Don’t mind him,” piped Petra from Levi’s other side. “He’s a germophobe. Just ignore it.”

Eren dropped his gaze to the tacky red and blue shoes and then shifted it to Levi’s feet. “But you’re wearing them too,” he pointed out. Although his were solid black and much less worn than the ones Eren had been given, they were clearly bowling shoes.

“These are mine,” said Levi, folding his arms over his chest. “I had to buy the damn things when Hanji insisted we were coming here. I’m not using someone else’s filthy shoes. Do you know how much sweat a person’s foot produces?”

“Not really,” said Eren, finishing up the second knot. He pushed his own sneakers underneath his chair and sat upright.

“Probably a lot,” said Petra. “His face is saying it’s a lot.” She leaned back in her seat and waved her feet in the air, flashing the purple and green shoes she’d been assigned. “Look at them though, they’re so ugly that they’re kind of cute.” 

“I don’t know why I’m friends with any of you.”

“Oh stop,” said Petra, leaning against his shoulder for a brief moment before springing to her feet. “You know you love us.” She bounced off toward the others, who were gathered around a shelf displaying an assortment of bowling balls. 

“Do you have your own ball too?” asked Eren. “I mean, they probably have germs too, right?”

“I’m not germophobic,” said Levi, scowling. “Petra was exaggerating. I’m just not willing to cram my feet into a space that’s been saturated with other people’s foul sweat. It’s disgusting.” Eren felt Levi’s stare but he didn’t allow himself to turn toward him, focusing on the others instead. “What happened to your face?”

Eren pressed a palm to his jaw. It stung from the contact. 

“It’s barely even bruised now,” he said. “Jean hits like a bitch.”

“Kirschtein hit you?” the question was sharp, the killing edge of a steel blade.

“No. I mean, maybe. I really don’t remember. It could’ve been anyone.”

Still he felt Levi’s stare but again he was unable to meet it, afraid of what he would see there.

“Grab your balls, boys!” said Hanji, loudly enough so the people four lanes away heard. “It’s time!”

“Time to jump off a fucking building to get away from you,” muttered Levi. Despite the statement, he stood and paced over to the shelves. Eren got up and followed. He knew nothing about bowling so he didn’t know which one to choose or what the difference was. When he returned to his seat it was with a moderately heavy ball that he had chosen based on color. It was red like his clown shoes. 

Hanji stepped up to the lane, her excitement eclipsed by an expression of utter seriousness as she focused on the pins in the distance. Eren glanced up at the screen over their lane. It listed six names, and for a moment he thought their screen was receiving a feed from the wrong lane. The listed titles were:

1\. FourEyes

2\. Sidekick

3\. Ginger

4\. GetAHaircut

5\. Levi

6\. Brat

“Hey,” Eren protested when he realized it really was the correct screen. “Why am I brat?”

“Because I set up the names,” said Levi, smug.

“Why don’t you have a stupid nickname?”

“Because I set up the names.”

Hanji managed to knock down all of the pins with her second roll, and then Moblit stepped up for his turn. Petra followed, then Eld, then Levi. Eren didn’t devote much attention to the game until Levi moved to the mouth of the lane. He spun the ball down the polished wooden floor where it met the pins with a resonating crack. All of the pins immediately fell except for the one on the far left. It wobbled, lurched, tried to right itself, then conceded to the inevitable and plummeted down with its brothers. Eren was appalled. 

“I thought you didn’t like bowling!” he protested as Levi returned to his seat. 

“I don’t,” he answered. 

“Then how are you good at it?”

“I don’t choose what I’m good at,” he shrugged. “It’s your turn, brat. Go before Hanji drags you.”

Eren huffed and approached the lane, weighing the ball in his hands before pulling back and sending it rolling toward the pins. Four of them fell, which was more than he was expecting. On his second try he got two more and he reclaimed his seat, satisfied. 

“At least I’m not the worst so far,” he commented, eyeing the board overhead. Moblit had only managed to dispose of two pins. Eren figured as long as he didn’t come in last he had nothing to worry about. 

Other than the fact that the man sitting next to him could choose to expose his secret and turn everyone against him at any given moment. 

“Wouldn’t matter even if you were,” said Levi. “This is a stupid game.”

“So why are you here?” 

“Hanji wouldn’t shut up,” he said. He popped open the top button of his shirt and tugged at the collar. Eren assumed the slacks and button-up were the same clothes that he’d worn to work that day. “I prefer laser tag. It sounds juvenile but there’s just something satisfying about it.”

“Like making kids cry,” said Eren, remembering Hanji’s statement from earlier.

“Yes,” Levi agreed. “Definitely that.”

Forty-five minutes later the game drew to an end. Levi was the winner by a landslide, Hanji trailing behind for second place. Eren was fifth, which wasn’t anything to brag about, but at least he’d outscored Moblit who was moping over his loss. 

“Cheer up!” said Hanji, jabbing her lab tech in the ribs. “Let’s grab some food and then go again. I’ll give you some tips. In the next game you’ll at least be able to beat Eren. He just got lucky.”

“Hey!”

“Come on.” Hanji seized Moblit by the wrist and dragged him toward the food service area. Eld and Petra followed, Petra glancing over her shoulder at Levi and Eren as she made her way over. Eren didn’t move.

“Not hungry?” asked Levi, watching as Hanji animatedly ordered more food than was necessary. Even from that distance they could hear every word she said.

“Starving, actually,” Eren admitted. “I might puke if I eat, though. It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

“Hangover?” 

Eren thought there was an undertone of disapproval in his voice but he couldn’t be certain.

“Yeah. The worst of it’s over but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Levi nodded, then lounged back in his seat. 

“Give yourself a little more recovery time then,” he said. “Afterward we’ll go get something a little less nausea-inducing than hot dogs and nachos.”

“You’re not hungry right now?”

Levi shrugged. “I can wait.”

Eren lowered his head. He started picking at his cuticles, just to have something to do with his hands. Hanji’s sudden burst of laughter echoed through the entire bowling alley. Moblit was red-faced, apparently the source of her humor.

“He’s obsessed with her,” said Levi. Eren belatedly realized he was referring to Moblit. “She’s too thick to realize it. When she does, though, she’ll give it a shot. It will be exciting for her, hooking up with one of her underlings.” 

Eren watched the pair of them. They’d chosen a table in the middle of the food area, sitting across from Petra and Eld. Hanji reached over Moblit to take a handful of his nachos and he leaned back and let her have all she wanted. Petra turned in her seat to peer back at Levi and Eren.

“You don’t have to be so fidgety,” Levi said. Eren turned his head to find the older man staring at him. “I’m not going to tell them.”

Something painful twisted in Eren’s chest. He lowered his head, face burning. 

“Not that it would matter,” continued Levi. “They wouldn’t treat you any differently.”

“Of course they would,” Eren mumbled. “Everyone does.”

“Then you’re spending time with the wrong people. If they’re decent then they won’t care. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“Tell that to Jean. The whole police department, really. No, actually tell it to everyone I’ve ever met, because they all thought so.”

“So that’s why you like to get drunk and fight. It’s masochistic. You feel like you deserve to be hurt.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Levi shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Eren forced himself to look up. “Why are you still talking to me, anyway? Why aren’t you done with me?”

“Why would I be?”

“You know why.”

Eren expected to find a touch of distaste in Levi’s expression, or at the very least a hint of disapproval. He saw neither.

“Like I said, anyone decent shouldn’t care about that. It’s not as if you confessed to being a serial killer. It’s part of who you are. You can’t change it.”

Eren sighed and broke his gaze. “I know. If only.”

The two of them sat in silence until the rest of the group returned, all of them eager to upset Levi’s place at the top of the pack. Despite their zealousness, at the end of the third game he still held the top score. Moblit had improved, though, through the assistance of hands-on tutoring from Hanji that had left him flushed and flustered. In the final game Eren scored last, but he didn’t mind. He was content sitting among them and being accepted. It felt good to know that they didn’t hate him.

It felt better to know that Levi didn’t either, despite what he knew about Eren. While they played Eren kept waiting for Levi to snap, to change his mind and blurt out Eren’s desperately shielded secret, but he never revealed any inclination to do so. 

When the third game had ended and the others had talked Hanji down from playing a fourth, they all slipped out of their clown shoes and pulled on their normal ones. After glancing around at the others, Eren realized his shabby sneakers were embarrassing in comparison to the nicer shoes around him. He yanked them on and tied them quickly, tucking his feet underneath his chair and hoping no one would notice. 

They formed a line to deposit their shoes on the way out, Levi sweeping past them to wait at the door. Hanji tried to chat with Eren about his hobbies but had a difficult time when he couldn’t think of any pastimes he enjoyed other than drinking, which he didn’t want to mention. Instead she started talking about some of the lab tests they’d been doing that week, Moblit hanging on her every word.

The group left the bowling alley together. The temperature had dropped since they’d arrived two and a half hours before. Eren zipped up his hoodie and buried his hands in the pockets. Beside him Levi popped up the collar of his coat. 

“Bye Eren! Thanks for hanging out with us,” said Petra. She scurried up to him and pulled him into an unexpected hug. He extracted his hands and returned the embrace. Her hair smelled fruity, like peaches and strawberries. 

“Bye,” he said as she pulled away. “It was good to see you again.”

“Come by the bar soon,” she said. “It’s been a while since I saw you there.”

“Yeah, okay.”

She moved on to Levi. When she swooped in for a hug he stepped back, effectively dodging the contact. 

“Bye, Petra,” he said. “Drive safe.”

“Fine,” she pouted. “Bye.”

She turned and strutted away, Eld following after giving Eren and Levi a quick farewell wave. Moblit said a quick goodbye and started across the parking lot, but was forced to pause and wait for Hanji when it was clear that she wouldn’t be detached so easily.

“Goodbye, Levi,” she said in a singsong voice, giggling at the rhyme. “Call me Monday, I’ll have all your drug screens processed by then. Or you can call me sooner and we can hang out again!”

“I’ll call you Monday.”

Undeterred, she turned to Eren. “I’m so glad you came! Aren’t you glad you came?”

“Yeah, it was fun,” he said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course, you’re invited to anything!” she said. “It was really Levi who wanted to call you though, so thank him.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” He glanced over and found Levi scowling up at Hanji.

“Just go home, goggles. Your lab pet there is probably out past his curfew.”

“Such an angry little man,” said Hanji. She reached out to pat his head but he ducked away from her hand. “Fine then, goodnight! Do you need a ride home, Eren? You don’t have a car, right?”

“No, I don’t, but I--”

“I’ve got him,” Levi said, cutting him off. “Just go.”

“Fine, fine.” She waved, trotted over to Moblit, paused, and turned to wave again. A few steps later she again hesitated, turning to call out another loud, “Goodnight!”

Eren waved back but Levi turned away from her and started toward his car. Eren rushed to catch up to him. 

“Where do you want to eat, kid?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answered. “I’m not picky.”

“That’s surprising. Most twelve year olds are.”

Taillights flashed a few cars down. Eren walked around the front bumper and stood at the door, waiting.

“It’s unlocked.”

“I know,” said Eren, “but I thought you needed to get your gun or whatever.”

“I already put it up,” he said. “Get in.”

Eren did so, sliding onto the leather seat and pulling the seat belt across his chest. This time when Levi started the car the radio was on. The music was turned down low, but it was loud enough for Eren to recognize the song. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Levi. 

“One word about my music and you’re walking,” snapped Levi. “What do you want to eat?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I just didn’t think you were the kind of guy who liked Taylor Swift.”

“It’s not Taylor Swift. It’s a cover of one of her songs. A cover by a rock band.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Levi’s glare slid over to him. “Get out.”

“No, no, it’s cool,” said Eren, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s rock, I hear it. The guy is screaming and everything.”

“If you don’t tell me where you want to go I’ll choose for you.”

“Okay, go for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song on the radio is the Blank Space cover by _I Prevail_. If you haven't heard it, you should go listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PjN4pz5j08).
> 
> I am by no means a Taylor Swift fan, but this is still one of my top 5 favorite songs. Ever.


	14. Friends

Ten minutes later Eren and Levi sat across from one another at a booth, Eren watching as Levi stabbed at his food with a plastic spork.

“I can’t believe you got a salad at Burger King,” said Eren. He frowned down at his own food, mustard oozing from the side of his burger. He swiped it away and licked it off of his finger. “Actually, I can’t believe you even brought me to Burger King. It doesn’t seem like your style.”

“That’s because it isn’t,” said Levi. He scowled at the spork, which refused to transport more than one scrap of lettuce at a time. “I’m here for you, kid. This is every twelve-year-old’s favorite restaurant. You’re welcome.”

“Twenty-two,” Eren corrected. He took a bite out of his burger, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Around the mouthful he said, “I’ve told you that like six times. It’s not that young.”

Levi didn’t respond, too repulsed by the younger man’s eating habits.

Eren took a gulp of coke and tried to stifle the burp that he felt crawling up his throat. He failed. “For real though, how old are you? Like thirty?”

“No, I’m not thirty.” 

“Older or younger?”

Levi stretched his spork across the table and speared one of Eren’s fries, withdrawing with his crisp golden prize. “Older.”

“Thirty-two?”

Levi shook his head, nibbling the end of the fry.

“Thirty-three?”

“Just stop, I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Thirty-four?”

“I said shut up, brat. If you’re going to be an ass you can walk home.”

Eren took another bite of his burger. “Okay, sorry,” he said, a few specks of food spraying as he spoke.

“Dear fucking god, were you raised by wolves?” demanded Levi, bunching up a napkin and hurling it across the table. “Even Hanji has better manners than you and she’s a disaster. You’ve really never been out in public. Your mom is one of those freaks who thought public schools were the devil and kept you at home until you were an adult.”

“I went to public schools,” said Eren, grabbing the napkin that had bounced off his chest and wiping a smear of mustard off of his face. “My mom wasn’t a freak either, she was pretty cool.” 

He shoved a slightly less messy piece of food into his mouth. Levi sighed and dropped his spork. 

“Great,” he said, “your mom’s dead. I didn’t mean it like that, I was just--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eren said, interrupting the awkward apology. “It was a long time ago. I miss her but I’m mostly over it. My dad’s dead too, so don’t make any jokes about that, either.”

“Noted.” Levi stared down at the scraggly lettuce remaining on his plate before pushing it to the side.

“You want my other burger?” asked Eren, offering the still-wrapped double cheeseburger on his tray. “You bought it anyway. If I’d known you were paying I wouldn’t have ordered two.”

“I’m not eating that shit,” said Levi, scowling. “Do you even know what’s in that?”

Eren tilted his head at his tray, pondering. “Nope,” he said. “No idea.”

“Tch.” 

“Can I pay you back for it? I told you I’d buy my own food. You already bought my lunch the other day, I owe you a meal.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing, shut up and eat. You don’t have a job. I doubt your bank account is overflowing.” 

“I can afford Burger King,” said Eren. “I still have some cash left from when I sold my car. I can live on it for a little while longer as long as I’m staying with Mikasa.”

“Is that why you sold it? Because you quit your job and your money ran out?”

Eren stopped chewing, his expression troubled. “Not exactly.”

A long moment passed. Eventually Levi sighed. “You’re so irritating,” he snapped, startling Eren from his thoughts. “You space out with that stupid sad look on your face. Either answer the fucking question or say you don’t want to, but don’t just sit there like a kicked puppy.”

“You get angry a lot,” noted Eren. “Aren’t you worried about your blood pressure, considering your age?” The fatal glare that Eren received made him rethink the comment. Before Levi could snap back a reply he said, “I bought a Charger when I started the job. It was just like the one I drove there, only without the lights and stuff, obviously. When I quit it reminded me too much of the PD so I sold it.”

Levi’s glare dissolved something less icy. “You know, kid, I think your problem is that you want to be a cop so badly that you’re letting it ruin you. There are other things you can do. Haven’t you tried to get another job?”

Eren shook his head, staring at his carton of fries. “There’s really nothing else I want to do. I mean, after being a cop and seeing the shit that some people deal with and knowing that I’ll never be the person who gets to help them… everything else just seems kind of pointless, you know?”

Levi stared at him for a long time, considering the statement. Then he said, quietly, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Eren looked up, confused. “What?”

“Police work isn’t the picture of pride and glory that you’ve painted it to be,” he said. “You were only there for a few months, you just got a taste. It’s a lot of sweat and pain and working your ass off for people who not only fail to appreciate you, but most of them hate you for it. It doesn’t matter that you’re putting your life on the line to help them. They just see someone nosing in their business and they’ll do anything to get you out.”

Eren shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. You don’t understand. It’s not about being appreciated, it’s about knowing you’re helping someone. You have to be out there and do the job before you can understand. You just don’t get it.”

Levi’s stare was flat, hard. “Sure,” he said bitterly. “I just don’t get it.”

“So Hanji said you’re the one who told her to invite me out tonight,” said Eren. “Why?”

“I thought it would be healthy for you to spend a night sober instead of stumbling around drunk off your ass.”

“You said when I’m sober I’m really socially awkward,” Eren recalled. 

“You are,” said Levi. “It’s endearing.”

“Stop making fun of me,” he pouted, shoving four fries in his mouth at once. 

“I wasn’t. What are you going to do now, then? Spending the rest of your life crawling around local bars doesn’t sound like a good career choice.”

“It wasn’t really a choice,” said Eren with a shrug. “I don’t want to be like that. I just… I don’t really have anything else to do. If I sit around and start thinking about it too much I just… well…” he trailed off, picking at the sheet of paper that lined his tray. “It just happens. If I think about it too much I can feel it again and I need a drink so I get one and then I keep getting them and then I get angry and really want to fight and then…” Eren sucked in a breath after the rambling sentence, his face burning as he realized he’d said more than he would have liked. “Sorry, this… this isn’t your problem. Why are we even here?”

“To eat the choice cuisine of kindergartners.”

“You can just take me home,” said Eren, pushing his tray away and frowning at it. “I’m sure you have other stuff to do.”

“Do you want to go home?”

Eren thought about it. The night hadn’t been bad; quite the opposite, actually. He’d had a good time with Levi’s friends, and even though Levi was a little bitter and a tad degrading, he couldn’t honestly say he didn’t enjoy spending time with him. 

“Not really,” mumbled Eren. “I don’t have much to go home to.”

“Okay then,” said Levi, dumping the leftovers in his plastic salad bowl onto Eren’s tray. “Come on.”

  


  
It was three-thirty in the morning before Levi finally dropped Eren off outside his apartment. They hadn’t gone anywhere else. Levi had simply driven around the city, taking streets and roads and circles that formed a roundabout path around the districts. They hadn’t talked much. Levi had turned up the radio and they rode aimlessly around to the sound of crooning guitars and pulsing bass and staccato drumbeats. It was the most relaxed that Eren had been in months, and he found himself strangely soothed by Levi’s company, despite the man’s stony silence. At some point during the hours of driving he found himself staring at Levi’s profile, transfixed by the way the streetlights illuminated the man’s jaw line. He’d looked quickly away when Levi had noticed, and neither of them mentioned it. 

“Thanks for the Burger King,” said Eren, staring out the windshield instead of at Levi. “And for hanging out with me. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course I didn’t have to. I wanted to, so don’t thank me for anything.”

Eren swiveled his gaze, meeting Levi’s narrow eyes. He really did look young, much younger than he claimed to be though he still hadn’t admitted his actual age. When Eren looked that closely, though, he could see the lines beneath his eyes, indicating the burden of years that hadn’t yet begun to weigh down the rest of his features.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Skepticism lifted one of Levi’s eyebrows. “I’m not being nice,” he said. “I’m not a nice person. I’m an ass.”

“Stop it,” he argued. “You’re hanging out with me and driving around so I don’t have to go home even though you’re obviously about to fall asleep sitting there. That’s nice.”

Levi pretended he wasn’t stifling a yawn. “That’s not being nice. I’m hanging out with you because I like you.”

Eren’s face was blank. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” snapped Levi. “You’re entertaining. Does someone have to have a reason to like you?”

“Well yeah. People don’t like me. Not after they know about… you know.”

“Yeah, I know. And I told you that you’ve been hanging around the wrong people if that’s what you really think.” 

“But doesn’t it bother you?” he pressed. “Knowing that I’m… well…”

“Gay,” said Levi, the word making Eren wince. “You’re gay. It’s not a fucking disease and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You can at least man the fuck up and say it.”

A sigh slipped between Eren’s lips. He lowered his head, hair falling forward into his eyes. “I know. It’s just… it ruined everything. I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Or think about it, or give yourself the chance to come to terms with it,” said Levi. “Sometimes people are gay, kid. It’s not exactly a crime. It happens.”

“But it ruined--”

“It didn’t ruin a damn thing,” said Levi, cutting him off. “If you think that’s the reason you didn’t make it at the PD then you’re lying to yourself.”

“Of course it is. That’s the reason I quit.”

“No, you quit because they were hassling you and you were still in denial about it so you didn’t know how to defend yourself.”

“That’s not how it happened. Jean just wouldn’t--”

“Jean Kirschtein is the biggest moron that’s ever worn a badge.” At the word badge he slapped his hand against the dash, startling Eren. “Somehow he’s a decent officer underneath all that stupidity, but if you ever take a word that he says seriously you’re dumber than I thought.”

Eren wished that Levi hadn’t stopped to drop him off. If they’d just kept driving all night everything would have been fine. He didn’t know why he had to start some kind of argument every single time Levi brought him home. It was a pattern already and it had only happened three times. 

“Look,” said Levi, his voice softening. “If you really want to be a cop, which I don’t recommend, you shouldn’t let anything stop you. Especially not a group of immature assholes who like exploiting people’s insecurities. It doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight or what the hell ever, that doesn’t make a difference.”

“They said it does.”

“Well I’m saying it doesn’t,” said Levi. “Who would you rather believe?”

Eren peered up at him without raising his head. The answer to that question was obvious. He wanted to believe every word that Levi said. He just wasn’t sure if he could. “Sorry,” he murmured. 

“Stop apologizing. Never apologize to anyone. You have nothing to be sorry for. Now get the hell out of my car, we both need to get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Eren wrestled his way out of the seat belt and pushed open the car door. 

“I’ll be at the bar tomorrow. You coming?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess so. If you want me to.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, brat.”

“’Night, Levi.”

He stepped out and pushed the door shut, stepping back with a wave goodbye. The windows were too dark for him to see if Levi returned the gesture. The car continued to idle until he reached the stairs, then it slowly glided across the parking lot and merged onto the road. Eren watched until the black blur was out of sight before dragging his feet to Mikasa’s second-floor apartment and letting himself inside. He stepped in quietly, not wanting to wake his sister. As it turned out, there was no need for discretion.

Mikasa stuck her head out of the open bathroom door in surprise, her head tilted and her fingers grasping the silver jewelry in her left ear. 

“Eren?”

“Hey.”

She blinked, then remembered what she was doing and removed the earring. “Are you okay?”

He was tired of hearing that question. It was Mikasa’s default greeting and it annoyed him, but Eren supposed it was his own fault. Ninety percent of the time when she asked the answer was a clear “no.” 

“I’m fine,” he said, for once not having to lie. “Are you?”

“Of course. Mike just dropped me off a few minutes ago. I stayed at his place a little longer than expected.”

Eren suppressed the disgusted twitch that threatened to curl his lip. Instead he pressed his mouth into a flat line and said nothing.

His sister crossed the room on bare feet, tilting her head as she studied him.

“You’re not drunk,” she observed, a muted note of surprise in her voice.

“No, I only had…” he trailed off, realizing he hadn’t consumed any alcohol all night. “None. I didn’t drink anything.”

“What were you doing all night then? I didn’t think you were actually bowling. I assumed that was just an excuse for me to drop you off somewhere.”

He felt a twinge of guilt that Mikasa had come to expect such things from him. “We really did go bowling for a while. Then we went to Burger King and then just drove around. Nothing exciting, but it was nice. I think…” he paused, hesitant to say it in case it shattered the spell of contentment that the night had woven around him, despite the argument of moments prior. “I think I made a friend.”


	15. Annie's House

When Annie woke up, it was with a hangover and a mouth full of sour blanket. She sat up, eyes still closed, and scraped her tongue against her front teeth. As her brain started to crawl out of its alcohol-induced slumber and become more aware of its surroundings, Annie realized she smelled something burning.

“My house,” she mumbled, her nose crinkling in response to her own morning breath. “They’re burning down my house.” 

Despite the suspicion, she was in no particular rush as she crawled out of her rumpled cocoon of bedsheets and started across the room on bare feet. She wore sweatpants and a tank top, which was more coverage than she would have typically bothered with. 

Annie paused when she reached the kitchen, lingering in the doorway as two men argued over a smoking toaster. 

“Don’t!” said Bertholt, the taller of the two, smacking at the other’s hand. “You can’t stick a fork in a toaster while it’s still plugged in. You’ll get electrocuted.”

“Whatever, that’s a myth,” said Reiner. He was slightly shorter, blonde, and built like a brick wall. He tried to stretch around Bertholt with the fork.

“What are you idiots doing?” asked Annie, leaning against the doorframe to watch them. She tried to pretend her head wasn’t throbbing. “Why are you up so early?”

They turned toward her simultaneously. Bertholt took advantage of the distraction and yanked the toaster’s cord out of the wall outlet. 

“It’s eleven o’clock,” said Reiner. “Come on, we’ve been off nights for two days. You should’ve bounced back to day hours by now.”

“I’m not sure how you’re even awake,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You were still drinking when I passed out asleep.”

“What can I say,” shrugged Reiner. “I can hold my liquor. You’re a girl, you wouldn’t understand.”

The only reason Annie didn’t cross the room and knock him out was she knew he was joking. She’d proven many times that she was just as tough as Reiner – and tougher than Bertholt – and they were lessons that the men wouldn’t forget. 

“At least I can make toast without starting a kitchen fire,” she said. “Do you need help? The mechanics of a toaster are pretty difficult to grasp.”

“I can make toast,” he argued. “You just have the settings all fucked up.” 

“I’m surprised Connie hasn’t come crawling after the smell of food,” said Annie. She slipped a black hairband from around her wrist and used it to tie her hair back in a messy bun. “Has anyone checked to see if he’s still alive?”

“His BAC is probably still around point three-oh,” said Reiner with a smirk, “but he’s alive. He’s passed out on the living room floor. I made sure he still had a pulse when I woke up.”

“What about Jean and Marco?”

Reiner looked to Bertholt, who shrugged. “Haven’t seen them. We slept on the pull-out couch. They took the spare bedroom I think.” 

“A good host would’ve offered their bed,” said Reiner, tilting the toaster onto its side and trying to fish out the blackened toast with his fork. “Bert’s ankles were hanging off the edge of the couch.”

“As if my bed would be any better,” said Annie, rolling her eyes. “It’s built for humans, not a damn titan like Bert. Besides, that’s the advantage of being the only girl on our shift. I get my room to myself.”

“This is stupid,” muttered Reiner. He picked up the toaster, upturned it, and shook it over the counter. His dual slices of burnt toast flopped out and so did a year’s worth of crumbs, sprinkling the counter like confetti.

“You’ll be cleaning that up,” Annie said flatly. She had plenty more to say on the subject but her tirade was cut off at the knees before it could even begin when a loud chime tolled through the house. 

She gave the two men a lingering glare before leaving the kitchen and walking through the living room to the front door. She opened it just as the man on the other side was reaching to ring the bell again. His hand lingered in midair until he awkwardly retracted his arm and scratched at the back of his head.

“Uh, hi,” he said. “You called yesterday about your security system. I’m here to fix it.”

Annie stared at him, one hand still holding the door halfway open. The man was taller than her, but then again, most everyone was. He wore semi-casual clothes and had a bag slung over his shoulder which she assumed he used to heft around the tools needed for repairs. 

“Is this the wrong house?” the man asked, stepping back to check the numbers nailed to the siding. As he looked back at her, confused, her expression changed. The corner of her lip lifted into a slight smirk, eyes glinting. 

“No, it’s the right house,” she said, the man relaxing a little at the confirmation. “Some of my friends were fiddling with the system last night after they’d had a little too much to drink. The alarm went off about six times in ten minutes so I had to shut it down. Come on in, I’ll show you where the controls are.”

She took a step back and waved him inside. As he moved past, Annie tracked his movement, her gaze sharp. Once inside the repairman paused to glance at the man sprawled on the floor, one of his legs hooked on the edge of the fold-out couch. 

“Umm… is he okay?” 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” said Annie, stepping past and leading him across the room. “The system is in the back hallway, I’ll show you.”

Bertholt had moved to the kitchen doorway to see who had arrived. As Annie moved past she snatched the glass of orange juice out of his hand, taking a sip to wash the alcohol-laced morning breath out of her mouth. She winked at him and kept walking, the repairman following a few steps behind. 

“Uh oh,” said Bert, glancing over his shoulder at Reiner, who was making a second attempt at using the toaster. 

“What?”

“I think Annie found a new toy.”

  


  
“So how long have you worked for Garrison Security?” asked Annie. She leaned against the wall while the repairman dismantled the control panel on the wall.

“A couple of years,” he said with a half shrug. “I don’t typically do maintenance calls like this but we’re really shorthanded right now. I help manage the company. Typically I work nights so I can actually get work done without being constantly interrupted.”

“That’s interesting,” said Annie, taking another sip of Bert’s juice. “You must be smart, then, to be one of the managers.”

His cheeks started to flush a little and he busied himself with the clump of wires on the wall. “It’s not that impressive,” he said. “Nothing about it is too complicated.”

“I’m sure you’re being modest,” said Annie, tilting her head. “You look smart.”

“Uh, thanks. What do you do?”

“I’m a cop.”

The man’s fingers stilled. He turned his head, looking at the woman with an expression that she couldn’t interpret. Typically people expressed surprise when she revealed her profession. This was something else, something heavier.

“In the city?”

“Yeah, I patrol the South side, usually.”

He nodded and turned back to the system.

“What, do you hate cops?” asked Annie, raising an eyebrow. “You look tense. Bad history?”

“No, of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just, uh, thinking about this.” He tapped a finger against the console. “What did they do to it?”

“No idea,” said Annie. “They have a knack for destroying everything they touch. It’s entertaining most of the time. Not so much when it’s at my house.”

“It’s not destroyed.” He knelt and started digging around in his bag. “I can fix it, it’s just going to take a few minutes.”

“Take all the time you need,” said Annie. “Do you want anything? Water, juice, burnt toast?”

He smiled. “No thanks, I’m good.”

“Annie!” Reiner rounded the corner so quickly that he slid on the hardwood floor. “Annie, come here, you have to see this.”

She scowled at him. “I’m kind of busy right now, so unless something is on fire--”

“No, seriously,” he said, tone bordering desperation. “You have to. You’ll never forgive yourself if you miss it. I swear.”

Annie sighed, intrigued by his intensity but reluctant to follow along. “I’ll be right back. Unfortunately my house is currently full of idiots. Yell if you need anything.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks,” said the repairman, eyeing Reiner as the two of them started down the hall.

“If this isn’t at least an eight on the scale of excitement I’ll punch you in the throat,” Annie said flatly when they were out of hearing range. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can go back to your game in a minute,” said Reiner. “Although I really don’t know why you’re playing this one, he’s not your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” said Annie. 

“Bullshit. If they don’t have tattoos and at least one big nasty scar you’re not interested. You could probably turn that little shrimp into a badass, though, once you dig your claws in.”

He raked his fingernails down her shoulder to emphasize the point. She slapped his hand away. “Don’t worry about me when you haven’t been laid in months. I think you need to focus on your own problems.”

“I could get laid whenever I want,” argued Reiner. “I’ve just been… you know. Busy and shit.”

“What the fuck ever, Reiner.”

Connie was still unconscious on the living room floor. He was now snoring, so Annie was unconcerned. The door to the spare bedroom was ajar and Bertholt stood just outside of it, trying so hard not to laugh that he looked like he was in pain. He pressed a finger against his lips and carefully pushed the door inward. 

Curiosity now peaking, Annie crept forward and peered inside the room. The spare bed was a mess of bunched and twisted sheets. Among them, equally as bundled up as the knot of sheets, were Jean and Marco. Jean was on his back, his jaw unhinged and a snuffled snoring drifting from his open mouth. One of his arms was loosely wrapped around Marco, who was lying halfway on top of Jean with one leg thrown over the other man’s hips. They were nude from the waist up; it was impossible to see any lower because of the bundle of sheets. 

“Oh. My. God.” The words ghosted over Annie’s lips, almost silent. Her mouth tilted with a wicked curve and she reached into the pocket of her sweatpants, drawing her cell phone like it was a deadly weapon. 

With Bertholt and Reiner stifling their laughter over either of her shoulders, Annie raised the phone and snapped a picture. The sound of the shutter was like a whip. The three of them held their breath, unmoving, but the two tangled men didn’t stir. Emboldened by their lack of response, Annie entered the room, tiptoeing closer. She took another photo at a different angle, making sure to capture the way Marco’s head was cradled just between Jean’s neck and shoulder, as if it belonged there. 

Annie took several more, her smirk unwavering, before she pocketed the phone and beckoned Reiner and Bertholt forward. They circled the bed with less grace than their female companion, but still Jean and Marco slept. 

Her grin widening, Annie perched on the edge of the bed, the springs compressing beneath her weight. She reached over and started running her fingers lightly through Jean’s hair. “Wake up, sunshine,” she said, leaning close to his ear to murmur the words. “Looks like you got lucky last night, huh?”

Jean shifted slightly, leaning into her touch. After a moment he finally managed to drag his eyes open. He blinked a few times before he could focus on her face, gradually recognizing her.

“Annie,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut again. “The fuck do you want? Let me sleep.”

“Let the boy rest,” said Reiner, his grin almost as evil as Annie’s. “He had a long, _hard_ night.”

Jean turned his head and tried to find the source of the voice, but his view was impaired by the headful of black hair resting on his shoulder. He stared at it, uncomprehending. Slowly he levered himself off of his pillow so he could see the face of his bedmate. As soon as his hazy mind registered the spray of freckles, he recognized Marco. It took him a little longer to grasp the situation, but everyone in the room knew the second that he did.

“What the fuck!” he yelped, squirming away from Marco and nearly shoving Annie off of the bed in his haste to put space between them. His ankle was snagged in the sheets and he hit the floor, writhing around in a feeble attempt to free himself. 

He wasn’t completely naked, but he wore only boxers. That was enough to have the trio cackling in fiendish joy. 

“What’s going on?” mumbled Marco, roused by the laughter. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, sleepily bemused. When Jean had gone down he’d taken most of the sheets with him, leaving Marco exposed. He was also stripped to his boxers, which had Reiner doubled over, laughing so hard that he was gasping for air. 

Jean managed to extract himself from the sheets and was yanking on the jeans that he found on the floor. He got them halfway on before he realized that they weren’t his. Unwilling to provide even more humor, he tugged them on anyway. His face was red, a mixture of humiliation and anger at the idiots who were laughing at him. It was a match to Marco’s complexion, which was darkening into a ruddy flush as he realized what was happening.

“Apparently we crashed in the wrong room last night,” said Reiner, elbowing Bert in the ribs. “We missed the show. Marco won’t be walking straight for a week.” Marco’s color deepened and he scrambled to yank the sheets back up, covering himself up to his chin.

“You’ve got that backwards,” noted Annie, still grinning. “Jean puts on a good show, but I think we all know he’d be the bottom.”

“Shut the fuck up,” snapped Jean, his tone venomous. “Nothing happened and you fucking idiots know it. I’m not a fag, don’t you even dare to think that about me.”

“Maybe that’s why you and Jaeger got along so well when you were partners,” suggested Annie. “You had something in common. I’m pretty sure you would’ve been bottom with him, too.” 

Jean snatched a t-shirt off the ground and yanked it over his head. This time the clothing was actually his. He rounded on Annie, less flustered now that he wasn’t a step away from nude. “You shut your mouth, Leonhardt,” he said, glaring down at her. “I’ve put up with a lot of your shit over the years, but I’m drawing the line here. We were just asleep, and you’re not going to say anything different, got it?”

“No, you listen to me,” said Annie, all traces of humor gone. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have too. The cold edge slicing her words was enough to have Jean taking a step back. “This is my house, Kirschtein. I’ll say whatever the hell I want. If you don’t like it you know where the door is.” Despite her short stature, Annie had no problems stalking closer and stabbing a finger into Jean’s chest. “After everything you said about Jaeger, you have this coming. You tore that kid apart, and if you think we’re just not going to mention that you’re curled up half naked in bed with another man then you’re dumber than you look.”

“You can’t fault me for Jaeger,” said Jean, forcing a sneer. “You were right there with me, all of you were. He didn’t belong at the PD and we all knew it.”

“That’s not the point. The point is if any of us did something like this,” she gestured toward Marco, who was still sitting quietly with the sheets pulled up to his flushed face, “You wouldn’t let us live it down. Don’t expect special treatment. Karma’s a bitch, Kirschtein, and so are you.”

She rammed her shoulder into him as she passed, making him stagger to the side. “Move,” she muttered after she’d already started crossing the room. “I have something to do.”

“And by that,” said Reiner, “she means _someone_ to do.”

Annie flipped him off as she stomped through the door.

After a moment of awkward silence Reiner said, “Well, I guess we’ll leave you two alone. You probably need to have the morning-after talk.”

“Fuck you,” spat Jean, flinging a pillow across the room. It slapped weakly against Reiner’s chest and flopped to the floor.

Marco buried his face in his hands and tried to disappear.

It was then that Connie shuffled into the room, his eyes red and hooded. He blearily took in the atmosphere of the room and settled his attention on Marco. In a croaky voice he said, "Dude, are you naked?"


	16. Laser Tag

Eren never knew that people took laser tag so seriously.

They rented the equipment from the front desk. Apparently Levi was less concerned about the sanitation here than he had been at the bowling alley because he pulled the black vest over his head without comment. Eren did the same, for once failing to feel self-conscious about the way he dressed. The others had chosen to wear more casual clothing too, relaxed jeans and t-shirts and shoes made for running. 

Hanji was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, the only one who wasn’t wearing a face so serious that they could have been on the verge of being deployed onto a real battlefield. Eren glanced at Gunther and Auruo, who seemed equally as intense about the game as everyone else. Eren had seen Gunther once at the bar with Eld, who had been forced to skip out on the game because he was working. Auruo was a stranger, but Eren had learned that he was one of the managers at Titan’s Tankard.

“Two teams or three?” asked Hanji, her excitement tangible.

Petra said “two” at the same time that Auruo said “three”. They paused to glare at one another. 

“The rest of you morons can do whatever you want,” said Levi. He rammed his elbow into Eren’s ribs. “Me and the kid are a team. We can take out all of you on our own, it doesn’t matter if you split up or not.”

“You’re good, but not that good,” said Gunther. 

“We’ll see about that.”

“Okay then, Levi and Eren are one team,” said Hanji. “Moblit and I can be a team, and the three of you can be a team. This will be so much fun!” 

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” said Levi, his face solemn. “This is war.”

“Whoever makes the most kids cry gets bonus points,” said Petra with a grin. Eren stared at her, surprised that such a statement had come from Petra, of all people.

“Hanji, you can go in first,” said Levi.

“Okay!” she said. She grabbed Moblit’s sleeve and dragged him along behind her, disappearing through the flaps of plastic that covered the doorway. Eren only saw slices of what was beyond, but it looked dark.

“She’s doomed,” said Auruo, shaking his head.

“So are you,” said Levi. “Go on in. Don’t expect to stay long.”

Petra rolled her eyes and strode forward, her gun held loosely. The two men followed, flanking her on either side.

Before diving into the battle, Levi turned to Eren, looking up at him in utter seriousness. “I’m counting on you, brat,” he said. “If you make me lose you’re walking home, and I’m not saying that as a joke.”

“Uh, okay,” said Eren. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s not good enough. Treat this as a real situation. There’s an arena full of people out there who want to kill you. If you don’t get to them first then you’re dead. Understand?”

Eren nodded slowly, a little intimidated by his intensity. “Sure, I understand. Kill everyone. Got it.”

“And you’d best have my back, kid. I’m trusting you.”

“Right, you can count on me.” Eren snapped off a salute, which made Levi sigh.

“Let’s just go.”

He led the way, Eren following closely behind. They pushed through the door and found themselves staring out at a vast arena that would have been plunged in darkness if it hadn’t been for the strips of neon light that glowed along the walls. They were built to mimic stone and Eren was reminded of a medieval castle. Fog rose from an unseen source, curling around the base of the walls and rising nearly to Eren’s waist. 

Levi moved forward carefully, his gun held close to his shoulder as he ducked into the narrow corridor in front of them. When they came to the first corner he pressed his back against the wall, paused, then surged forward, the barrel of his gun tracking the space beyond. Apparently there was no one there because he waved Eren forward before moving on. 

He repeated this method several times before they came into contact with anyone else. As he stepped around the fourth corner he squeezed the trigger twice, so quickly that the foes had been shot before Eren had even noticed anyone was there. Two teenagers were standing together, complaining in loud voices as their vests flashed with red light. “You’re dead,” said Levi, nudging one of them in the chest with the barrel of his gun. He did the same with the other one, repeating, “And you’re dead. If you walk around with your head up your ass that’s what’s going to happen. Pay attention.”

He continued past, ignoring the openmouthed looks on their faces. Eren studied them as he walked by, searching for any sign of a tear. He sort of wanted those bonus points.

When they came to the end of that corridor Levi stopped, waiting for Eren to draw up beside him.

“Auruo always hides in the same spot,” he said. “There’s an open space past this corner and a turret that sits in the middle. It opens on two sides, but you can’t see in it until you’re really close. I’ll circle around to the other side and you take this one. Watch yourself, though, he’ll be ready. Don’t die, brat.”

Without waiting for confirmation of the plan he started forward, his gun held out in front of him like a fatal shield. Eren peeked his head around the wall, eyeing the turret that Levi had indicated. It was surrounded by the fog that swirled around his feet, limiting the arena’s visibility. Eren kept his knees bent as he started forward, staying as low to the ground as he could manage and hoping the fog would serve as a cover. He swept his gaze across the rest of the area and saw no one other than Levi, who was now circling to the other side of the turret. 

Eren crept toward the nearest entrance, pressing his back against the wall just beside the empty door. He counted to ten, giving Levi enough time to take his position on the other side. He breathed deeply, braced himself, and dived through the entrance, dropping to the floor as soon as he passed the threshold. 

Auruo was there, gun swiveling in his direction. 

Eren fired from the ground, yanking at the trigger as if his life was really at risk. As serious as Levi was about this game, it truly may have been.

Flashing red light filled the room; Auruo lowered his gun with a muted groan, glaring down at his blinking vest. He had been nailed by both of them; Levi was crouched in the opposite entryway, the butt of the gun against his shoulder. 

“Dead,” said Levi, straightening out of his crouch. “As always.”

Eren grinned as he pushed himself off of the ground, dusting himself off as he stepped over to Levi. 

“Where’s Gunther hiding? Out in the swamp?”

“As if I’d tell you.”

Expression as hard as stone, Levi pressed the barrel of his gun against Auruo’s chest and pulled the trigger half a dozen times. 

“Dead, dead, dead,” he said. “Come on, kid. Let’s go win this war.”

Eren moved to follow, but hesitated at the door. He turned and fired one more shot at Auruo, grinning as he was rewarded with a burst of red light. “Dead,” he murmured to himself, mimicking Levi.

The two of them made their way through a twisting maze of walls, annihilating several teenagers on the way. When they managed to weave through it, they reached an area with a glowing blue stripe on the floor surrounding a walled structure. Eren realized it was imitating a moat.

“This is where I always set up camp,” said Levi, indicating the structure. “There are six rooms inside. The deepest one is the most secure, but you have to make sure the other rooms are empty first or you’ll get shot when your back is turned. I’m assuming you know how to clear a building, right, kid?”

“Yeah, of course. That was policing one-oh-one in the academy.”

“Good. If you fuck up I’ll shoot you myself. Follow my lead.”

Quick steps carried Levi to the building. He leaped across the three feet of blue light as if he was truly crossing a winding valley of water. Eren was concerned that something would happen if he stepped on the light so he did the same, sailing over the moat and landing safely on the other side. 

Levi entered the castle gun-first, sweeping the interior before ducking into the first room. Eren waited outside the door, gun at the ready, until he felt Levi tap him on the shoulder. Eren then moved forward, sliding into the next doorway in a crouch with his finger on the trigger. It was empty. He backed into the hallway and touched Levi lightly on the arm, sending him off into the next doorway.

Three rooms and four teenagers later, the two of them were secured in the final room, which was in the depths of the faux castle. The walls were circular and it had only one entrance. In the center of the room was a short wall that provided impenetrable cover. Levi and Eren both crouched with their backs against the wall, waiting.

“Gunther is probably already dead,” said Levi. He touched his gun as if he was preparing to reload it, then remembered it was just a laser weapon. “Hanji is a wildcard. Sometimes she survives and sometimes she shoots herself by accident. This is Moblit’s first time so I don’t know what he’s capable of, but I’m not really worried. Petra is probably the biggest threat. She looks harmless enough but she’s a perfect shot and her size lets her creep around in the fog without being seen.”

Eren started to say something about Levi’s size serving the same purpose, but decided against it. Instead he asked, “How do you know how to clear buildings like that? That’s the exact way they trained us to do it.”

Levi shrugged off the question. “I play a lot of laser tag.”

Eren wasn’t sure that was a good enough reason, but he decided not to push. He gripped his gun more tightly, waiting for the sound of footsteps to approach so he could engage the enemy. The wall that they hid behind was good cover, but it wasn’t exactly wide. They were forced to sit close to stay concealed; very close. Eren was pressed against Levi from shoulder to hip to knee. He could feel the smaller man’s warmth through his clothes and found it difficult to ignore. 

“How long until they come here after us?” asked Eren in a low voice. 

“Not long,” answered Levi just as quietly. “They know I usually camp out here. They always die when they come after me, too, but that doesn’t stop them.”

Eren turned his head to look at Levi. “So are you just good at everything?”

Levi did the same, appraising Eren with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck no. Why?”

“Well, you beat everyone at bowling, and you’re really good at this, and honestly I just can’t imagine you sucking at anything.”

Levi blinked once, slowly. “Bowling is dumb. I’m good at this because I enjoy it. Those are the only things you’ve seen me do so don’t just assume. I’m awful at mostly everything else.”

Neither of them looked away and it was then that Eren realized, with a sudden jolt, how close they were. He could taste Levi’s breath on his face, the warmth brushing over his lips. Eren knew he should turn his head, but he didn’t. Neither did Levi.

“So… what do we do now?” asked Eren, feeling as if he needed to say something.

“We wait. How patient are you?”

Levi’s eyes were gray steel, but even in the gloom Eren could see a slight hue of cerulean in the striations of his irises. It was unordinary and interesting and downright alluring. “Not very.” He lowered his gaze to Levi’s lips, which were so close to his that if he just moved forward one little inch…

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eren hissed. He flung himself to the side, away from Levi.

As soon as he moved several things happened in the same moment.

He had pushed himself away with such force that he nearly barreled into the wall. As soon as he caught himself he saw a blur of motion from the corner of his eye. He turned, automatically raising his gun in defense, but it was too late. A burst of red erupted from his vest. Hanji’s glasses gleamed in the neon light as she circled the low wall where Levi was concealed. Petra was right behind her, scampering around the other side.

Levi slammed his gun down on top of the wall and started shooting, triggering Hanji’s vest and barely managing to duck down before Petra pinned him with her laser. He leapt from behind the wall, rolled, and came up on one knee to fire at her before she could track him with her weapon. Her vest blinked red and she groaned, defeated. Hanji was cackling wildly from the other side of the room, waving her gun around like it was a banner.

“Shut up, four eyes,” said Levi. “The dead don’t laugh.”

“We almost had you!” said Hanji. “I accidentally killed Moblit, but then Petra and I teamed up to take you down and we almost had you!” 

“At least we got Eren,” Petra teased, pushing aside her disappointment and smiling. “Couldn’t protect your partner, huh?”

Something crossed Levi’s features so briefly that Eren couldn’t pin down the expression. It wasn’t a positive one, though, and even after it vanished the man looked sullen, almost angry.

Eren didn’t understand the problem, but apparently Petra did. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes going wide. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, the words a rush. “I didn’t mean it like that, Levi, I promise. I was only--”

“It’s fine,” said Levi, cutting her off before she could finish the apology. “Drop it.” He stalked across the room, headed for the door. Petra stared at the ground, her brow creased and her mouth turning downward into a pained frown. Levi paused when he reached her, extending a hand touch her arm. “Really, Petra. It’s fine.”

She looked up at him and nodded, attempting a weak smile. Levi dropped his hand and continued past into the corridor that extended beyond the room. 

Confused by what had just passed between them, Eren followed. Hanji strolled alongside him, suddenly more withdrawn than usual.

“Is he okay?” Eren muttered when he felt that Levi was out of earshot.

“Mmmmm…” Before she even answered, Eren knew she was going to dodge the question. “Sort of, kind of, maybe. But not really.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“No, but it’s the best I can give you. It’s not my place.”

Eren nodded, trying not to resent her for the vague response. It wasn’t her fault; she was just being a good friend. 

When they’d woven their way out of the maze and back into the lobby Hanji took her personality off of mute.

“Moblit!” she crowed, dashing forward. “You’re alive!” 

She wrapped him in a dramatic hug and he flushed, pretending that he was trying to escape. “No thanks to you,” he mumbled. “You’re the one who shot me.”

“It was an accident, I promise,” she said, giving him one last squeeze before relinquishing her grip. She patted the side of his face. “You look good for a zombie.”

He turned away from her touch and tried to hide the smile that he couldn’t quite keep off of his face.

“Levi won, surprise, surprise,” said Auruo drily. “Now what are we doing?” 

“Nothing,” said Levi. “I’m going home.”

Auruo and Gunther looked surprised. Petra just looked guilty. 

“Are you sure, Levi?” asked Hanji, turning away from Moblit. “Don’t you want to go get some ice cream or something? You love ice cream…”

“I said I’m going home,” he snapped. “Brat, you want a ride or what?”

“You can stay out with us, Eren,” said Petra. “I’ll take you home later if you want.”

Eren looked from her to Levi, whose hard stare hadn’t strayed. 

“Uh, that’s okay,” he said. “I’ll just go with Levi. You guys have fun though, thanks for letting me play.”

They exchanged goodbyes and Eren followed Levi to turn in his equipment. The older man wasn’t looking at him now, so he couldn’t be sure if he’d made the right decision or not. 

The two of them didn’t speak as they walked through the parking lot, seeking Levi’s car in the dim glow of the street lights. Eren climbed inside without a word, dutifully buckling his seat belt.

Levi started the car, shifted into reverse, then just sat there with his foot on the brake. He glanced over to Eren, who was facing forward. 

“Now I really want some damn ice cream,” said Levi. “Do you like it?”

“Huh?” said Eren, surprised. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure.”

Levi’s tone was flat, inflectionless. “Fantastic.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stoked that I finally got to post this chapter. It was a fun one to write and I feel like the Ereri is ~~finally~~ progressing. 
> 
> When I say Slow Build in my tags, I mean it. I don't joke around with serious shit like that. 
> 
> I'm considering writing some one-shot type things that go along with this fic and posting them separately. A couple of you have requested things that I haven't written into this story and I aim to please, so I'll do what I can. I suppose I'll just post the links in the chapter notes when they fit best into the story? If anyone has any suggestions for this please let me know. ^^
> 
> And of course, thanks to all of you for reading!


	17. Ice Cream

“I thought you ate healthy,” said Eren, watching as Levi dove into a banana split swimming in caramel and chocolate and strawberry syrup.

“I don’t eat garbage,” he corrected. “This is ice cream.”

Eren’s eyebrows lifted but he said nothing, instead focusing his attention on his own chocolate sundae. 

The two of them sat on a bench at Sonic, which Levi had declared the nearest restaurant with a decent softserve machine. Eren was by no means complaining. He would have gladly gone anywhere rather than being dropped off at his apartment with no explanation, as he’d been expecting. 

They were the only ones on the paved dining area. A couple of cars were parked further down in the slanted parking spots, but they were at a far enough distance to give Eren the illusion that he and Levi were alone. 

He stared at his plastic cup of ice cream and wondered if he should even breach the topic. He felt that he shouldn’t, but tactfulness had never been one of his personal strengths.

“So why did you get mad at Petra?” he blurted, unable to hold back the question. 

As he felt Levi’s attention weighing on him he shrank beneath the heavy gaze.

“I wasn’t angry with her.”

“You seemed like it,” said Eren, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “You seemed really upset.”

“I was.”

“But you just said—”

“Not with Petra,” Levi clarified. “She just reminded me of something that upset me. It wasn’t her fault.”

“What did she remind you of?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eren felt he’d heard that phrase all too often before, but usually it came from his own mouth.

“Okay,” he said. “Was it something she said?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, I heard you, but what--”

Levi seized Eren’s wrist, forcing the younger man to look at him. His fingers were like a vicegrip and Eren could have sworn he felt his bones shifting against one another under the strain. 

A fuzzy memory flashed through Eren’s mind, a burst of blood and pain and the haze of drunkenness. He reminded himself that it had been Levi who’d put a man twice his size on the ground to keep Eren from sustaining worse injuries. He hadn’t been able to figure out how that was possible, but with the sheer strength of his grip Eren could almost understand.

“I said,” stated Levi, his gaze so sharp that Eren found himself leaning away, “that I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t bring it up again.”

He waited for Eren to nod his agreement before he released him and returned to his ice cream. 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbled.

“It’s fine.”

That’s what he said, but Eren felt that it really wasn’t. Eren knew pain when he saw it, no matter how flawlessly constructed the mask was. He’d felt it, he knew it intimately, and he recognized it in Levi. It was loss, deep and vivid.

By the time Eren spoke again his plastic cup had been scraped clean and was sitting on the ground at his feet, waiting to be disposed of. Levi had finished his ice cream, too, but had made no move to leave. He was sitting with his elbows across the back of the bench, watching the passing traffic.

Eren squirmed in his seat, feeling extremely uneasy. 

Finally he made himself ask, “Are you mad at me?”

“No, I told you it’s fine. Just don’t ask me about it again.”

“Not about that,” he said. He pressed his palms together and trapped his hands between his knees, hunching over slightly. “About what happened at laser tag.”

He felt Levi looking at him, but couldn’t bring himself to turn in his direction.

“Be more specific.”

Eren felt his face start to heat up and tried to suppress it.

“Nevermind.”

“Eren.”

The voice was too close. Eren sat up straight and turned his head to find Levi leaning toward him, mere inches separating them. He started to pull away but Levi gripped the front of his shirt, holding him in place.

“You mean this?” asked Levi. His expression was still neutral, but Eren could have sworn he saw a flicker of amusement in those wintery eyes. “Why would you think I’d be mad?”

“Because I was in your personal space,” said Eren, trying to inch away and still finding himself trapped. “Since I’m… well, you know… I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”

“Is that why you leapt into the maw of death and took a laser bullet?” asked Levi. “Because you thought your gayness would offend me?” 

“Yeah,” shrugged Eren, glancing down to Levi’s mouth and then back up. His voice sounded even deeper when he was this close. He could almost feel it reverberating in his bones. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“The only thing that makes me uncomfortable is that you’re so uneasy with yourself,” said Levi. “You keep expecting to offend me when I’ve told you it doesn’t matter. Things don’t bother me. You couldn’t make me uncomfortable if you tried.”

“Bet I could.”

“I doubt that, brat.”

Eren tried to disregard that comment, but he found himself unable to turn down the challenge. Despite the scarce distance between them he leaned a little closer, so close that he could almost feel the warmth of Levi’s skin radiating in the slice of air between them. He could see individual eyelashes, the perpetually dark rings that lined Levi’s eyes. “How about now?”

Levi tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider. “Hmm. Nope, I’m fine. How about you? Feeling a little awkward?”

Swallowing, Eren shook his head slightly. “No.”

It was obvious to both of them that he was lying. A smirk tilted the edge of Levi’s mouth. His fingers dug even more tightly into Eren’s shirt and he closed the last inch that remained between them. Their lips pressed together, firmly, briskly. Then Levi released his shirt and Eren reeled back, his eyes so wide that Levi expected them to topple out of his head.

“How about now?” asked Levi, mimicking him. “You look a little uncomfortable.”

Eren couldn’t make himself respond. He barely heard the question over the numbing explosion that had detonated in his brain. 

A deep chuckle left Levi’s lips as he stood, brushing himself off and retrieving his trash from the bench. “Come on, brat, it’s getting late. I’ll take you home.”

He dropped the plastic tray into the trash can and headed toward his car, turning up his collar as he walked away. 

Eren watched him go, his jaw unhinged. 

He didn’t understand what had just happened. Was Levi playing a game with him?

He must have been. It was a joke. He couldn’t mean it the way that Eren was inclined to interpret it. 

Levi was probably just trying to assuage Eren’s insecurity. That was obviously the reason. He knew that Eren felt bad about himself and he was trying to make him feel better. He was a good friend, that was all. 

A really, really good friend.

Besides, Levi wasn’t gay. Any idiot could look at him and see that he could have any woman that he wanted. He was confident and attractive and maybe a little rude, but that only enhanced his charm. 

No, he wasn’t gay. He just wasn’t.

Eren made himself stand up, barely remembering to pick up his garbage and dispose of it before following Levi across the parking lot. 

Levi wasn’t gay.

Eren bit his lip as he slid onto the leather seat of the Lexus, unable to keep himself from observing the older man from the corner of his eye.

…but what if he was?

Even if he was – which he couldn’t possibly be – that wouldn’t mean that he would ever be interested in Eren. Eren had nothing to offer anyway. He was a man in his early twenties with no job, no home, and no reason to live. He was pretty much useless, and potentially a borderline alcoholic. 

He hadn’t had any alcohol that night, though, nor had he felt the need to. The reason was sitting beside of him, starting the car and turning the heat up to kill the chill that had crept into the Lexus while they’d eaten ice cream outside in the middle of winter because he didn’t allow food in his vehicle.

“What’re you staring at, brat?” 

“Nothing,” said Eren, looking quickly away. He rolled his lips inward, fighting the smile that threatened to spread across his face. 

“Fucking christ, you look like a schoolgirl,” said Levi. “Please tell me that wasn’t your first kiss.”

“Of course not!” Eren said a little too loudly, cheeks bursting into flame. “I’ve kissed plenty of people.”

“How many of them were male?”

Eren opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again. The car parked across the lot from them was suddenly much more interesting than the skeptical spark in Levi’s eyes.

“You’re shitting me,” said Levi. “You’ve never kissed a guy? Are you sure you’re gay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Eren muttered, lowering his head so that his hair would partially hide his face. He doubted it would completely cover his shame but it was worth a try. “I’m really, really sure.”

“Is that why you’re so embarrassed?” pressed Levi. 

“There are about fifteen reasons why I’m embarrassed and you’re not helping.”

Levi chuckled; it was deep and throaty and Eren was fairly sure it was the first time he’d heard the man laugh. Despite his humiliation he peered up at him from beneath a mess of chestnut hair. 

“How are you so unaffected by this?” asked Eren. 

Levi shrugged. “That’s not the first time I’ve kissed a man,” he said. His stare was level, piercing. “And I’m certain it won’t be the last.”


	18. Blackmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I just wanted to thank you all for reading. I've gotten way more comments on this fic than I would've expected. Every single one of them means a lot to me. ^^
> 
> Also, if anyone ever sees any grammar mistakes in any of these chapters please tell me. I'm a grammar junkie and I'll fix it immediately.

Annie’s party had taken place on the shift’s long break, so it was the following weekend when they had to go back into work for a night shift. Jean pulled into the parking lot with a sour expression and a bad attitude. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he’d stormed out of Annie’s house, his exit accompanied by bad jokes and Connie’s snorting laughter. Marco had sent him a couple of texts but he hadn’t responded. He didn’t know what to say to him. He didn’t really want to say anything to him. As far as he was concerned, all of it was Marco’s fault.

When he got out of the car a flurry of barking started up from the cruiser beside him. He couldn’t see the dog in the backseat because of the heavy window tint, but he’d seen the beast often enough to know it would probably tear his throat out if it ever got the chance. He paced past the car, ignoring the growls, and swiped his card through the scanner mounted next to the door to gain entry to the PD. 

He was a few minutes early, so the roll call room was empty. He paced to the back table and dropped into a seat, the handcuffs on the back of his belt clinking against the chair. With a sigh he leaned back and propped his boots on the edge of the table. About fifteen seconds later he was back on his feet, crossing the room with a sense of startled urgency. 

A glass case was mounted on the wall that held the trophies and honors that the PD had earned over the years. There were also framed certificates housed within, along with a picture of the current and past police chiefs. Jean had seen all of it many times before. That day, though, there was a new photograph, taped against the inside of the case, placed in the direct center of the glass.

It was a picture of Jean and Marco, dead asleep and twisted together like a deformed pretzel. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” 

Jean tried to pry the glass door open, hindered by the lock latched onto the corner of the case that secured it in place. He pounded a fist against it with a snarl, turning on his heel and storming into the office.

He stopped in the doorway, glaring at a slight blonde girl who was spinning in circles in a desk chair. 

“Krista, what the fuck are you doing here?”

She stopped spinning, blinking up at him in surprise. “Oh, hi, Jean. I'm just hanging out.”

“There's classified information in here. You can't just fucking hang out.”

“Sure I can. Ymir let me in,” she said, smiling. 

Slowly, Jean turned his head to find the only other occupant of the room. She lounged back in a chair, her booted feet propped casually on a desk that wasn’t hers. As he watched, she started twirling a keyring around her finger, smirking.

“Ymir, this is not fucking funny,” said Jean. “Give me that key.”

She stopped twirling it, instead holding the keyring out to him on an extended index finger. 

“Alright, Kirschtein,” she said. “Come get it.”

There was a challenge in her voice, and Jean hesitated. He had never worked alongside Ymir. They had always been on different shifts. Still, he had interacted with her enough to know that she wasn’t someone he wanted to feud with. When she had first been hired they had assigned her about six different partners until they found one that could handle her. That partner happened to be three feet tall, furry, and almost as vicious as Ymir. 

“Did Annie put you up to this?” he asked, deciding to hold off on approaching her. “What did she give you for it?”

“Oh, she didn’t give me anything except for the picture,” said Ymir. She started spinning the keyring again, the smirk dropping off of her face as she eyed Jean. “That was enough. I didn’t need any motivation.”

“Come on,” said Jean, trying not to sound desperate. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“Nope,” she shrugged, “you didn’t have to. Remember Eren Jaeger?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” hissed Jean. “Why do people keep bringing that up? What the hell does it matter?”

“It matters because you hurt him,” said Krista. Her voice was the sound of bells, but her eyes were cold. “He didn’t deserve that.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t even know him.”

“No,” said Ymir, “she doesn’t. Even I only met him a couple of times, but it doesn’t matter. What you did was low, Kirschtein, even for you.”

“Again, what the hell does it matter? You’ve done worse things, don’t try and say you haven’t.”

“Of course I have,” said Ymir, unbothered. “I’ve ruined people, but all of them deserved it. Jaeger didn’t do anything.”

“He was a raging fag. Isn’t that enough?”

Ymir’s boots hit the floor with a thud and she was on her feet, heavy steps crossing the room to Jean. He tried not to flinch as she stopped in front of him, her eyes narrowed. Unlike Annie, Ymir didn’t have a height disadvantage to contend with. 

“Homophobia stopped being okay a long time ago,” she said, so close to Jean that he could feel her breath. “Being gay is not a disease. It’s not a problem. It’s not something that anyone should have to defend themselves for.”

“I never meant it like that,” said Jean. He tried to take a step back but found himself pressed against a wall, trapped. “It’s fine, it’s whatever. He just shouldn’t be here, doing this job.”

“Why not? Because if someone is gay that means they’re not tough enough to be a cop?”

“Well yeah.”

Krista made a sound that was a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

“What about me, Kirstein?” asked Ymir. “Am I not tough enough for this job? Because I think I could eat you alive.”

Jean shook his head, trying in vain to negate the situation. “No, of course not. You’re great for this job, but it’s different.”

“It’s different,” repeated Ymir. “It’s different because I’m a girl? Lesbians are okay, but gay guys aren’t? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then you’d better figure out what the fuck you mean, because right now it sounds like you don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about. And just so you know, straight guys don’t fall asleep tangled up like that, I don’t care how drunk they are.” She took a step back and tossed the key over her shoulder. It clinked to the ground somewhere behind her but Jean made no immediate move to retrieve it. He was afraid he’d get bitten if he tried. Ymir glanced back. “Come on, Krista. I’m having a hard time breathing in here. The hypocrisy is suffocating.”

The petite blonde hopped out of her chair and followed, granting Jean a look of blue-eyed disapproval as she traipsed by. 

Jean waited until he heard the echo of the exterior door slam before moving. He found the key lying beside the printer and knelt down to scoop it up. The bitter anger he’d felt upon arrival was gone. Now he felt something else, something deep and sour and pressing. If he didn’t know any better he would think it was guilt.

Ten minutes later roll call wrapped up and he followed his comrades out to the parking lot. No one had made any snide comments yet, although Annie had pointedly looked from Jean to the photo-less trophy case and back before leaving the room. Marco trailed behind Jean in silence, his head slightly lowered. When they approached the cruiser Jean got into the driver’s seat and Marco circled around to the other side without argument. 

When both of them were inside and buckled in, Jean started the car. It idled quietly as the other cruisers backed out of their spots and merged onto the road, each headed for their respective patrol zones. Jean’s zone included the street that the PD was on, so he was in no particular rush to become mobile. There were more pressing things on his mind, and Marco’s pained expression was one of them.

“What?” said Jean, the word snapping more harshly than he meant for it to.

Marco winced a little, glancing at Jean before suddenly becoming interested in the radio speaker dangling from the rearview mirror. “I sent you texts over the break. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I was busy.”

“Right. I was just going to say… well, I’m sorry. For what happened at Annie’s.”

Jean waited for Marco to look at him and was disappointed when he didn’t. “Why would you be sorry? They’re the ones who were jerks about it.”

“It was my fault, though,” he said. After a slight pause he added a quiet, “Probably.”

“Probably? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marco slid his eyes sideways, quickly looking away again when he found Jean’s intense stare fixed on him. “I drank a little too much that night. I knew I shouldn’t have but I did anyway, and honestly… honestly I don’t remember what happened. I don’t remember getting in bed or going to sleep or even when I took my clothes off. I don’t remember anything.”

“Fuck.” Jean pressed a hand against his face. After a long moment he emerged, frowning at Marco. “Do you want to know why I really didn’t want to talk to you?”

Marco nodded.

“Because I don’t have a fucking clue what happened, either. I was drunk off my ass and I guess I blacked out. I don’t know what I did that night or how we got where we were.” Jean closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, but he was afraid of what Marco may have remembered. Now that he knew it was a blank for both of them, he thought that might be even worse. 

Apparently Marco didn’t feel the same way. To his surprise, his partner started chuckling, the sound a complete conflict with the state of Jean’s thoughts.

“The hell is so funny?”

The laughter stopped, but the grin lingered on Marco’s face. “Nothing, really. I’m just… relieved, I guess. I thought you weren’t speaking to me because you were mad at me. I mean, after all that stuff you said about Eren, I just thought…”

“Nah, I’m not mad at you,” said Jean. The truth of the statement was somewhat of a surprise to him. He’d spent the past few days blaming Marco for the entire situation, but now that he was face to face with him he found himself unable to hold on to any of those bitter feelings. It was about impossible to be angry with him. “I mean, we probably just went to bed. The alcohol probably heated us up so we stripped to cool down. Then we fell asleep and the night got colder and it’s human nature to seek out heat. That’s all that happened. It wasn’t anything more than that.”

Marco nodded, eager to agree. “Right, I’m sure that’s it. We wouldn’t have… you know, done anything. Right?”

“Right. We definitely didn’t.” He glanced sideways at Marco. “You hadn’t, right? When you woke up you hadn’t been… well, you know…”

It took Marco a moment to follow the vague thought, but when he caught on his eyes widened. “No! No, definitely not. Had you…?”

“No, fuck no. Never.”

“Okay. Well… good, then.”

“Yeah, good. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe someone else on the shift will do something stupid and embarrassing and they’ll forget all about it.” He didn’t mention that there was photographic proof of the event. He didn’t want Marco to have to worry about that. Besides, the issue had been taken care of. The picture was folded up and tucked into Jean’s pocket. He hadn’t wanted to throw it away at the PD. Someone could have retrieved it from the trash and started the fiasco all over again. He would take it home and dispose of it there, where it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

“So we’re cool?” asked Marco.

“Yeah, definitely.”


	19. Levi's House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started a separate collection of side chapters for those of you who wanted to see additional scenes that I didn't initially include in my storyline. The first is a glimpse into Levi's POV and fits between chapter 17 and chapter 19. Chronologically, it should be read before this chapter, but isn't necessary in order to continue with the storyline. It's completely optional. If you would like to read it, though, feel free to go [ here ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4168149) and do so!
> 
> If there's anything you would like to see there, please let me know and I'll see what I can do!
> 
> That being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Hanji laughed so loudly that Eren could have sworn his eardrums were on the verge of bursting even though she was sitting across the room. She pointed at the TV, tears dripping from beneath the thick frames of her glasses, a grin creasing her face.  


“That’s so funny!” she said, breathless. “Petra, did you hear that? Did you?” She dissolved into another fit of laughter, Petra chuckling along at a much more socially acceptable volume. Levi eyed Hanji with a flat stare, unamused.  


The four of them sat in Levi’s living room, grouped around a flat screen that was streaming a movie that Eren had never heard of and wasn’t particularly paying attention to. He couldn’t focus long enough to be interested. He was still stunned that he had been invited into Levi’s townhouse.  


The living room, along with the rest of the residence, was absolutely pristine. The cleanliness rivaled that of a sterilized operating room. The sofa that seated Petra and Eren was a rich cream, flanked by plush matching chairs on either side taken by Hanji and Levi. The carpet was the same color, light enough to make the room seem clean and neat but lacking the blinding brightness of pure white. Sparse decorations hung on the walls, an occasional painting with shades of blue and brown and gold. There were no photographs of Levi or his family or anyone else. Eren had almost asked why, but realized how inappropriate that question may have been before he voiced it. He and Mikasa kept pictures of their family, broken though it was. Maybe Levi didn’t have a family at all.  


A bowl of popcorn was wedged between Petra and Eren. Levi had forbidden them to bring food out of the kitchen but Petra had pouted so pitifully and skillfully that he had given in and allowed it. No matter how well-practiced her sad puppy eyes were, though, he still wouldn’t bend on the no liquids rule, and Eren had to get up and walk into the kitchen each time he wanted a drink of the single beer that Levi was allowing him to have.  


With all of Levi’s strict rules he felt almost like a teenager again, but he wasn’t about to complain. For whatever reason he was still being included, and he wasn’t about to step out of line and fuck that up.  


Eren left the group, sidestepping Hanji, who was finally calming down, and slipping into the kitchen. His beer was sitting on the counter, framed by a mandatory coaster. He took a small sip from the bottle, savoring it. Levi probably wouldn’t notice if he crept into the refrigerator and popped open a second bottle, but he wasn’t about to risk it. He looked back toward the living room, only able to see the backs of his friends’ heads over the furniture. The tv screen was visible from where he stood, but he still couldn’t bring himself to be interested in the movie.  


He finished off the rest of the beer and replaced it on the coaster, uncertain if Levi recycled. There was only one obvious trash can in the corner, one of the round silver ones with the pedal that popped up the lid. It had the same steel sheen as the rest of the appliances. Eren leaned against the counter, content with studying the interior of Levi’s home. He had been beyond surprised when he’d been invited, especially after the ice cream incident. It had been a few days ago, and since then he’d been unable to really focus on anything else, and he knew he’d been a little more awkward than usual around Levi.  


Despite the time that had passed, Eren hadn’t been able to scrape together the courage to breach the subject. He wanted desperately to know what had been going on inside Levi’s head, especially since he’d made the comment about kissing other men. Even Eren hadn’t kissed other men, and he was the one who had admitted to homosexuality.  


He needed to know where Levi’s head was, but he didn’t have the balls to ask. As embarrassing as it was to admit to himself, Eren was afraid. Afraid of the same rejection that he’d already been through, afraid of making an idiot of himself, and afraid of losing the first real friend he’d made in a long while.  


Eren’s phone started buzzing. He assumed it was a text, but when it continued to vibrate he realized he was actually receiving a call. Clumsily he dug it out of the pocket of his jeans, barely glancing at the screen before answering.  


“Hey, Armin,” he said, turning his back toward the living room and walking to the far side of the kitchen. There was a door there that branched into a small hallway but he didn’t want to wander further into Levi’s home without permission.  


A strange tone sounded above Eren’s head. He jumped back and looked around, wondering if he’d crossed some sort of invisible barrier into Levi’s personal space. It wasn’t until he noticed Levi crossing the living room toward the door that he realized it was the doorbell.  


“Oh,” said Eren, “Of course.”  


“Uh, what?” asked Armin, confused.  


“Sorry, talking to myself,” said Eren. “What’s up?”  


In the living room Hanji leaped out of her chair and bounded toward the door, which wasn’t visible from where Eren stood. He assumed she was going to greet the new arrival. Petra followed with more grace and a soft smile.  


“Just wanted to see what you’re up to,” said Armin. “I thought maybe you would want to go out for dinner or something? Just to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in a while, we probably have things to talk about.”  


Eren frowned, aware that something was strange about the statement but unable to pinpoint it. The way Armin said it was suspicious.  


From the adjacent room there was the rumble of a deep male voice, but Eren blocked it out.  


“Is everything okay?” asked Eren, leaning a shoulder against the side of the fridge.  


“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to get together, that’s all. You’re my best friend and I haven’t seen you in at least a week.”  


“I’ve been a little busy,” said Eren, realizing that it was at least partially true. He’d been spending most of his evenings out with Levi and his friends or at the bar with Levi and his friends. “I’m at a Levi’s place right now, actually. Maybe we can do something tomorrow?”  


“Yeah, sure,” said Armin, sounding relieved. “I’m still covering days where we lost one of our technicians last week, so we can go out when I’m off work. Where do you want to go?”  


“Doesn’t matter,” said Eren. Although the conversation was normal enough, there was something in Armin’s voice that wasn’t quite right. “Armin, are you sure everything’s okay?”  


Eren heard the slam of a door. Either the new arrival had left or been invited inside. He assumed it was Eld or Auruo or Gunther and didn’t think too much on it.  


“Fine,” said Armin, hesitant. Another moment passed before he said, the words rushed as if it hurt to voice them, “I met a girl.”  


“That’s great,” said Eren, wondering why Armin was acting so strangely about it. It wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d dated anyone. “What’s the problem?”  


“Well… she’s great, but I’m kind of afraid you won’t like her.”  


“What? Why?”  


“She’s just not really my usual type. And I don’t think the two of you will get along very well, she has kind of a strong personality.”  


“Do you like her?”  


“Yeah, of course.”  


“Then who the fuck cares what I think?” asked Eren, shrugging even though he knew Armin couldn’t see him. “It’s your life, Armin, don’t worry so much about everyone else. If she makes you happy then that’s great, I don’t know why I would have a problem with her.”  


“Well okay,” said Armin. “Remember that when you meet her.”  


One of Eren’s eyebrows quirked. “Uh, okay. Why don’t you invite her to dinner with us tomorrow?”  


“Are you sure? I wanted to spend some time with you, I’m afraid if you don’t like her--”  


“Come on, Armin, just stop. It’s fine. Even if I don’t like her I promise to be nice.”  


He heard a light chuckle from Armin, muffled by the way his friend was holding the phone. “Okay then. I’ll see where she’d like to go. I’ll text you tomorrow?”  


“Fine with me. See you then.”  


“Alright, bye, Eren.”  


“Bye.”  


Eren ended the call and shook his head.  


“That was good advice considering you do the exact opposite.”  


He sucked in a breath, startled by the voice. Levi hovered in the doorway of the living room, watching him with his head slightly tilted.  


“What do you mean?” asked Eren, trying to remember what he’d said.  


“Don’t worry what the fuck anyone else thinks,” Levi paraphrased. “Which is ironic coming from someone who can’t even admit that he’s gay. Stop giving so many fucks.”  


Eren’s eyes widened. He searched the area behind Levi, waiting for Hanji or Petra to step around the corner and start judging him. Nothing happened, and he realized it was quieter in the apartment than it had been all night.  


“They left,” said Levi, answering the unspoken question.  


“Who was at the door?” asked Eren, finally remembering the strange ding.  


“My neighbor.” Levi rolled his eyes. “We used to work together. He’s having a dumb ass party this weekend and wants me to come.”  


“Oh. Are you going?”  


He shrugged. “Probably. If I don’t show up he’ll come over and drag me there. Hanji has to go, too, but she’s actually looking forward to it.”  


Eren stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out what Levi was waiting for. He realized that the girls leaving was probably his cue to go home, too. It wasn’t a far walk, although if he took the most direct route he would have to pass in front of the police department.  


Maybe he would make a slight detour.  


“I guess I’ll go,” said Eren. He crossed the tile and took his bottle off of the counter. “Do you recycle? I didn’t know what to do with this.”  


“Tch.” Levi took the empty glass bottle out of his hand and put it in the sink. “Why do you want to leave? It sounded like you just turned down plans with your friend.”  


“I’ll see him tomorrow. Hanji and Petra left, so I should probably just--”  


“I told them to get out,” said Levi, cutting him off. “Well, I told Hanji to get out. Petra’s meeting up with Auruo soon. You can stay. We should probably finish this shitty movie, I almost want to know what happens.”  


“Oh,” said Eren as Levi turned and paced back into the living room. “Uh, okay.” He tried to ignore the twist of anxiety of his gut as he followed, but couldn’t suppress it when Levi plopped down on the couch, right beside the spot Eren had been sitting in.  


He considered choosing one of the chairs instead, but it appeared that Levi had intentionally left enough room for him. Not wanting to be rude, he circled the sofa and dropped onto the cushion, completely disregarding the popcorn bowl that was still perched in the middle of the couch. When he sat it shifted, lurching toward the floor.  


Eren made a desperate grab for it, managing to catch the bowl but unable to keep a wave of popcorn from tumbling onto the immaculate carpet.  


For a moment he was frozen, waiting for Levi to tear into him for fucking up his house. When no attack seemed forthcoming, Eren bent over and started scooping up the stray pieces, feeling the flush creeping into his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words blurring together. “I didn’t mean to, I know you said no food in the living room.”  


“Don’t be stupid, it’s not a big deal.” Levi slapped Eren’s wrist, making him drop the kernels that he’d managed to gather. Eren stared at his empty palms, shocked.  


Levi transferred the bowl to the coffee table, leaving an empty space between them. He settled back, stretching one arm along the back of the couch behind Eren, who tried not to flinch away from the proximity.  


“Sorry,” he said again.  


“I said don’t worry about it. It’ll vacuum up.”  


“Want me to do it? I don’t mind, I was the one who--”  


“Shut up, Eren.”  


He clamped his lips together and stared resolutely at the tv screen, belatedly noticing how stiff his shoulders were. He tried to relax, unsure of why he was having such a dramatic reaction to a little bit of popcorn in the floor. It wasn’t as if Levi was about to lynch him for it.  


Then as Levi shifted a little, the motion marginally shrinking the distance between them, he realized that the mess wasn’t the source of his anxiety at all.  


He chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye and found Levi already staring at him.  


“What’s your problem?”  


“Nothing,” said Eren. He tried to shrug but the motion just didn’t work properly.  


Levi studied him for a moment, then withdrew his arm and interlaced it with the other, folding them across his chest.  


It took a moment for Eren to realize that Levi had moved because he felt he was making Eren uncomfortable.  


“No!” said Eren, the word bursting forth a little too loudly. Wincing from the volume, he started again. “That’s not it. I mean, you’re not bothering me. I’m just, I mean… I don’t know. Nevermind.” He loosely laced his fingers together and rested them in his lap, staring down at his hands instead of the tv, which still displayed the pointless movie that Hanji had insisted on watching.  


“Sometimes you’re so easy to read that it’s laughable,” said Levi, considering Eren with his head cocked to one side. “Other times I have no fucking idea what’s happening in your head. This is one of those times, so you’re just going to have to tell me. I can’t read your mind.”  


“Thank god for that,” mumbled Eren.  


There was a sharp tap on the side of his head.  


“Come on, kid. You’re thinking too hard. Tell me what’s up before you hurt yourself.”  


Again, Eren’s social filter malfunctioned.  


“So are you gay then?” he blurted, still unable to look at Levi. “I mean, you said that thing about kissing guys, and you didn’t freak out when I told you that I was, and so I was just wondering because I…” he trailed off, finally succeeding in shutting himself up before he said something that he would really regret.  


Levi waited for him to continue. When it seemed that he wouldn’t, he said simply, “I’ve dated men. I’ve also dated women.”  


“So you’re bi, then?”  


“Do I really need to put myself in a category? I am the way I am, I don’t give a fuck what you call it.”  


Eren breathed, clenching his hands together more tightly. “But you’re attracted to guys?” he asked, seeking clarification.  


“I’m picky about my men, but sure,” he said with a shrug.  


“Why didn’t you tell me that when I told you? That was, like, my biggest secret ever. Hearing you say that would’ve made it easier.”  


“Well you didn’t really give me the chance, did you? You bolted out of my car like I was about to knife you.”  


“You haven’t told me since then, either.”  


“You never asked.”  


Finally Eren made himself look at Levi. The older man was observing him coolly, appearing to lack all of the flustered self-consciousness that was thundering through Eren’s head.  


“But you do like guys,” Eren pressed.  


“Are you deaf? What did I just say?”  


“What about me?” asked Eren, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them.  


Levi tilted his head to the other side. “What about you?”  


“Well do you… you know.” He looked down again, catching his bottom lip between his teeth for a half second before he finished the statement with a hesitant, “Do you like me?”  


“If I didn’t would you be sitting on my couch right now?”  


“I don’t mean as a friend. I mean more.” Eren’s face was burning so hotly that he expected his flesh to start sizzling.  


“Yeah, I know what you mean.”  


Eren’s head snapped up. He waited for the expected rejection or sarcastic comment or something negative, but Levi appeared as calm as ever. When Eren’s attention had been elsewhere he had again extended his arm and it draped casually across the couch behind Eren’s back.  


“Again,” said Levi, “why else would you be here?”  


“Because we’re friends?”  


“Sure, we’re friends.” He leaned closer, studying Eren. There wasn’t enough light in the room to illuminate the cerulean striations in his eyes. They appeared only grey, the color of an incoming storm. “Is that all you want from me? You just want to be my friend?”  


Eren paused, but not because he was uncertain. He was afraid that if he was honest that he would lose Levi for good. He would rather keep him as a friend than expel him from his life completely.  


If he kept him as just a friend, though, he would always look back at this exact moment and hate himself for it. It would be a future of “what if” and “I should have done this” and “what the fuck was I thinking?”  


So he said, his voice scraping a whisper, “No.”  


Levi’s narrow eyes were lidded, his gaze so piercing that Eren could almost feel it drilling through his skull. In a voice deeper than usual, with an edge of huskiness that made Eren suppress a shudder, he said, “Then show me what you want, brat.”  


This time he didn’t hesitate.  


Eren leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Levi’s as if he’d never had a shred of uncertainty in his life. His hand found its way to the back of Levi’s head, fingers threading through the longer strands of black hair. He felt Levi’s arm wrap around his waist, strong and solid, pulling him closer and closing the few inches of space that remained between their bodies.  


Their lips moved together, slowly, firmly. Without knowing how he got there Eren found himself straddling Levi, a knee on either side of the shorter man’s thighs, his hands curled around slight but muscled shoulders. He felt long fingers trail down his back and then slip under the hem of his shirt, spreading gently over the skin beneath.  


Levi’s tongue pressed against his lips and he almost shied away from the contact, still a little uneasy. Sensing his hesitation, Levi pulled back, looking up at him with hooded eyes.  


Eren realized it had become significantly more difficult to breathe. Before Levi could speak and ask what was wrong, before he could ruin it, Eren again captured his mouth, pressing a palm against the side of Levi’s face to hold him there.  


This time it was his tongue that was searching, requesting access, and Levi didn’t deny him.  


Eren shuddered as their tongues slid together, gently at first, almost a caress. Then Levi fisted a handful of Eren’s hair and pulled him even closer, invading his mouth, filling it with a foreign taste. Eren tried to match the motions, exploring Levi’s mouth, wilting beneath the sensation. He made a sound that barely made it out of his throat, a muffled groan of pleasure and longing.  


Levi pulled away, and Eren was suddenly so humiliated and terrified that he tried to peel himself away, but he didn’t get the chance.  


He was thrown off balance so easily that it was as if he weighed nothing. Levi flung him to the side and flipped him onto his back, his body stretching the length of the couch. Before he could react Levi was on him, every inch of his muscled body pressed firmly against him.  


Eren was breathless, but it wasn’t because of the extra weight.  


Levi’s chest was flat against his when he kissed him again, and Eren realized the man who was now on top of him had been holding back.  


Levi kissed him so roughly and with such fervor that Eren couldn’t focus on anything except for kissing him back. He didn’t know where his hands were or what they were doing. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what his own name was. All he could think about was Levi, the way he felt, the way he tasted.  


A hand traveled down his side, sliding over his ribcage and finding the bare skin beneath his shirt, which had ridden halfway up his abdomen. Levi shifted, but Eren didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything until deft fingers popped open the button of his jeans.  


Suddenly he felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head, drenching him back into awareness.  


His hands were on Levi’s chest. The man’s shirt was gone and his palms were pressed against bare skin.  


He raised his head and looked down at the space between them, where Levi’s fingers had found Eren’s zipper and were hovering there, waiting.  


Eren swallowed hard and let his head fall back, staring up at Levi, whose expression he couldn’t decipher. He could feel the man’s chest heaving beneath his touch, labored breaths tearing their way out of his lungs.  


When Levi spoke, though, he sounded composed, as though resuming a casual conversation.  


“Do you want to stop?”  


“No.” The sharp negative came a little too quickly.  


Despite the response Levi removed his hand, putting it somewhere safer.  


“Too much for you, kid?”  


“I said no,” snapped Eren, grabbing the back of Levi’s head and trying to pull him back down. He didn’t budge.  


“You’re not ready,” said Levi, his expression unchanging. He clambered off of Eren and retrieved his shirt from the floor. Eren still didn’t know when it had gotten there or who had removed it.  


Eren sat up so quickly that his head swam. That was probably because his blood had rushed elsewhere, leaving his brain deprived. “I am ready.” Part of him throbbed, seconding the statement.  


“Obviously not.”  


“It’s not like I’ve never had sex before,” said Eren, unable to tear his eyes away from Levi’s upper body as the other man started to work his way back into his shirt. He had more muscles on his chest than Eren had ever had on his entire body, even when he’d had a daily gym routine.  


“With a woman, sure,” said Levi, shrugging. “This isn’t the same thing.”  


“Of course it is, it’s sex.”  


“Yeah, but who was on top?”  


Eren flushed, and he thought maybe that would help other parts of him calm down. Unfortunately he was still so hard that he was almost in pain.  


“Right there,” said Levi, stepping forward and pressing a hand against the side of Eren’s face. “Look at you, you’re so embarrassed by all of this that you’re practically a virgin. Well, in a sense you are.”  


Eren slapped at his hand, but it was halfhearted. “Stop it. I’m ready, really. I want to.”  


“No, you don’t,” said Levi. He stood with his arms folded, not resuming his seat on the couch. Eren had the urge to glance down and see if Levi was experiencing the same stiff problem that he was but didn’t want to be obvious. Levi didn’t have the same reservation. His eyes dipped to Eren’s lap and one of his eyebrows rose. “Well, apparently you do,” he said, “but you’re still not ready.”  


Eren clasped his hands in his lap, fruitlessly trying to hide what Levi had already seen.  


Levi shifted his posture, still staring down at Eren. “Want me to suck you off?”  


“No!” he said, horrified.  


“Why?” asked Levi, still calm.  


“Because you’re—well, it’s because--”  


“Because I’m a man,” said Levi, finished the statement. “And it’s not cool to have a man suck your dick, right? Because that’s gay.”  


Eren lowered his head, letting his hair fall forward to shield his eyes. “That’s not it.”  


“Yes it is, and it’s fine.”  


He felt Levi drop onto the couch beside him, the cushion shifting slightly beneath the added weight.  


“You’re still struggling with it. It’s normal for someone who’s been in denial about it for so long.”  


“Are you mad at me?”  


“For what?” asked Levi, his voice sharp.  


“Because I didn’t let you… umm…”  


“Because you don’t want to fuck me?”  


“Stop saying that.” Eren slapped his hands over his face, wishing he could crawl under the couch and hide. “I do want to, it’s just that I don’t--”  


“I know, I get it. Of course I’m not mad, I’m don’t expect you to do it until you’re comfortable with it.”  


“Wait,” said Eren, his mind curling around the statement. “You mean you’re not done with me?”  


“Kid, I haven’t even gotten started with you.”  


He didn’t know if it was supposed to be a joke or not, but Eren couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Levi smirked a little, settling back into the couch and reaching for the remote.  


“So what are we supposed to do now?” asked Eren.  


“Let’s watch a real movie. Anything has to be better than this shitfest.”


	20. Drinks

“Jean? Are you mad at me?”

Jean sighed and kept his face buried in his hands, elbows propped on the table. He knew he’d heard the question a dozen times already, but Marco still wasn’t convinced. Though Jean couldn’t see him with his palms pressed into his eyelids, he could perfectly envision the expression on Marco’s face. He was looking at him with big brown doe eyes full of worry and regret, the spray of freckles over his cheeks making him appear almost childlike. 

“No, I’m not mad. I’ve already told you I’m not mad.”

“I know, but… I don’t really believe you.”

Jean allowed his hands to fall away, instead wrapping them around the mug of beer in front of him. Marco sat across from him, with the exact expression that he had imagined.

“Well believe it, I’m not mad.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Instead of answering directly, he lifted the beer and took a long drink, buying some time to decide how to respond to that. 

The two of them had been on duty until about an hour before. They had left the PD, gone to their respective homes to change, and met back up for some much needed alcohol. At least, Jean felt it was much needed. Marco had ordered fucking water. 

They were at one of the sports bars that Jean had often frequented with Eren when they had worked together, before he’d discovered what a freak his ex-partner had been. The walls were lined with flat screens that played about six different games and much of the space in the building had been devoted to pool tables or dart boards. Jean and Marco had chosen a table in the back corner, as far away from the other patrons as possible. Jean figured he had arrested at least a couple of the idiots who were there and didn’t really want a drunken confrontation if it could be avoided.

When his beer was empty and he couldn’t dodge Marco’s desperate stare anymore, he said, “A lot of things are wrong. I don’t really know where to start.”

That much was true. The twelve hours they had just worked had been hell right out of the gate, and it hadn’t improved. The very first call that had rolled in that morning was a complaint about a downed power line, and they’d been forced to stand and direct traffic for an hour and a half in freezing rain while waiting for the shit to get fixed. Apparently no one in the entire damn city could drive if the weather wasn’t perfectly clear, and there had been at least eight accidents that the pair had responded to after that. The last call of the day had been the worst, though, and Jean knew that was the one on Marco’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” said Marco, frowning down at the ice floating in his drink. “I really am. I know I messed up and I--”

“Messed up,” Jean said, talking over him, “is an understatement. You almost got yourself fucking killed, Bodt.”

Marco withered beneath the statement, shrinking back in his chair. “I knew you were mad,” he said quietly.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m pissed as fuck,” spat Jean, visibly crushing Marco even more. “But it’s not even at you. I’m pissed at myself. I shouldn’t have let you handle it on your own, I knew you weren’t ready.”

The last call had been a domestic assault. Dispatch had informed them that there may have been firearms in the residence, so they went in on high alert. The involved parties had been calm when they’d arrived, and they had gotten both sides of the story and enough information to type up a report. When the involved male willingly informed them that there was a shotgun in the closet, and cooperatively offered to show them where it was, Jean had sent Marco with him to retrieve it. 

Thirty seconds later the sound of a gunshot had almost given Jean a heart attack, and it wasn’t because he was concerned for his own safety.

“He seemed like a nice guy,” mumbled Marco, his face scrunched in embarrassment. “I didn’t think there was going to be a problem.”

Instead of having the man point him to the weapon, Marco had allowed the guy to grab it himself. As it turned out, the man was a little angrier that the police had stepped into his personal business than he let on. 

Fortunately for Marco, the shotgun was so old and unused that it didn’t fire properly and he’d walked away unscathed.

“People aren’t nice,” said Jean. “You’re walking into this thinking that they’re all just dying to let you help them. It’s not like that, Marco. People hate us. Everyone hates us, and they’d all kill us if they got the chance. That’s why we can’t give them the chance.”

Marco nodded, still staring at his water.

The waitress approached with enough fake cheer to compensate for the black mood. “Do you want another beer, sir?”

“No, fuck beer. Bring us a dozen shots. What kind do you like, Marco?”

He looked up, surprised. “Umm, that’s okay, I really shouldn’t drink.”

“Well you’re drinking anyway.” He returned his attention to the waitress. “Bring half Bacardi and half tequila. We’ve had a rough day.”

“Yes sir, I’ll have that out in a few.” She paused to grab Jean’s empty glass. His eyes trailed over her chest for a brief second, but it wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been. Instead he turned back to Marco.

“You’re drinking tonight. You need it as much as I do.”

Marco’s shoulders hunched inward and he stared at the scarred wooden table. “Remember what happened last time we got drunk?”

With that, Marco had dredged up Jean’s other problems. He was still receiving snide comments from the rest of the shift, Annie had threatened to plaster social media with the pictures she’d taken, and he was fairly certain that if Ymir ever caught him alone outside of work she would slide a knife between his ribs. All of that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The thing that bothered Jean the most was that he thought he might have remembered more about the night at Annie’s house than he had originally thought. He couldn’t recall exactly what had happened, but his brain had managed to seize a few flashes before the alcohol had bleached them out for good.

He was hoping that if he drank enough alcohol it would erase those flashes, too. 

“I drove here,” said Marco, his brow creased with worry. “I can’t drive back home if I drink anything.”

“My place is only a block away, you can sleep on my couch.”

“That’s okay, Jean, really. I don’t need anything to drink, I mean sure, I’m upset, but it was my own fault and I have to deal with it. If the chief decides to fire me then I guess I’ll just--”

Jean reached out and seized one of Marco’s wrists, pinning it on the table so he would stop gesturing with his hands while he spoke.

“Just stop it,” snapped Jean. “He’s not going to fire you. When I wrote the report I made a note that I would give you remedial officer safety training. I’ve been doing this for a long time, Bodt. If anyone can turn you into an officer it’s me, and I plan to do it. Got it?”

Marco swallowed the rest of his statement and nodded, glancing down at Jean’s fingers, still wrapped around his wrist. 

Jean followed his gaze and was rewarded with a fuzzy flash of memory; his fingers gliding over smoothly freckled skin, the warmth of a solid body beneath him, the silken taste of a tongue sliding over his lips…

He pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned, snapping a string of curses under his breath that left Marco speechless.

The waitress returned with a tray weighed down by shots, and Jean had thrown back three before she’d even unloaded all of them on the table. He slapped the glass down and again rested his face in his hands.

“Hey, Marco?”

“Yeah?”

He peered through his fingers to see Marco tipping back one of the shots, his face bunching in distaste as he swallowed.

“You really don’t remember anything from that night? You have no idea what happened before Annie woke us up?”

Marco shook his head, and it was obvious that the denial was genuine. “No, Jean, I don’t remember anything. You said you don’t either, right?”

“Right, right. Nothing at all.”

He took another shot and wished that it was the truth.

  
  
An hour and a half later the two of them stumbled into Jean’s apartment. Jean wasn’t quite as drunk as he’d gotten at Annie’s house; he had to at least preserve enough of his mental function to walk home safely. Still, he was more inebriated than he should have been, and because of his insistence, so was Marco.

Not surprisingly, Marco became cheerier when dosed with alcohol. He shed his coat and plopped down onto Jean’s couch with a smile that was too wide, relieved of the heavy worries that had weighed him down a couple of hours before. 

“I like your place,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the messy interior of the apartment. “It’s cozy.”

“Cozy ‘cause it’s so small,” said Jean, unaware of the slur that curved his words. “I need to piss.”

He paced to the bathroom, one hand on the wall for stability. After a brief struggle he managed to relieve himself and staggered back into the living room, confused when Marco wasn’t on the couch where he’d left him. In his drunken haze, it took him too long to realize that his partner was now sitting in the middle of the floor, staring at the ground.

“Dude, what are you doing?” said Jean, approaching carefully on lurching legs.

“This is a nice rug,” answered Marco, grinning up at him. “I like it.”

“Don’t be so weird,” said Jean. He extended a hand, and after a hesitation Marco accepted it. Jean heaved him out of the floor, using too much force and sending both of them reeling. His back hit the wall and Marco thumped into him, giggling.

If he’d been sober, Jean would have immediately pushed him away. Since his rationality was hindered, though, he couldn’t come up with a reason to do so. “You need to be careful,” he said, placing his hands on Marco’s shoulders to steady him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Okay, sure,” said Marco, even more agreeable than usual. “I’ll be careful.”

Still Jean held him there, an arm’s-length away.

“I’m really not mad at you, I swear. I like you. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, Jean. So are you.”

“Like, I don’t have that many friends,” continued Jean. “Just work friends. And you’re my work friend, too, but you’re also my friend, you know? Like, my real friend.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re friends.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“You won’t tell anyone?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that.”

Even through the fog of the alcohol, Jean could see the honesty on Marco’s face, the sincerity in his slightly glazed eyes. 

“I think,” started Jean, “that something happened that night at Annie’s house.”

“Really? What happened?”

“I think,” repeated Jean, breaching a topic that he couldn’t bring himself to even think about while sober, “that we might have kissed or something. When we were drunk. Before we went to sleep.”

“Oh,” said Marco, unconcerned. “How was it?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“Hmm.” Marco frowned as his sluggish brain tried to wade through the confession. “Are you mad?”

“Nah, I’m not mad. Are you?”

“No, why would I be?”

Jean shrugged. His hands were still resting on Marco’s shoulders. “Just asking. I can’t remember if you wanted to or not.”

“Me either. Did you want to?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Huh.”

“I’m not gay,” slurred Jean. “I don’t kiss guys.”

“No, I know that.”

“I didn’t hate it, though,” said Jean, trying to remember more of that night and failing. “At least, I don’t think I did. Actually I think it might’ve been nice.”

“Really?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged again. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh. Well do you want to do it again? Just to see?”

Jean tried to think about that. He felt that he should say no, but he couldn’t think of a good reason to do so. Besides, he kind of wanted to. If he wanted to do something then that must’ve been the right decision. “Yeah, okay. Just to see.”

Marco took a step closer and Jean’s hands remained on his shoulders, fingers curling around double handfuls of his shirt. Marco was taller by a couple of inches, so he had to dip his head down to catch Jean’s mouth.

Jean kissed him back, and it was a different experience than he was used to. Every female he’d ever dated had been shorter than he was, so he was the one ducking down to match her height. Now he found himself going slightly on his toes, back braced against the wall, leveling himself so he could better reach. 

One hand moved to Marco’s freckle-spotted neck, the other curling beneath his arm to clutch at his back. Marco’s palms were planted on the wall on either side of Jean’s head, keeping himself balanced. 

Their mouths moved together, and he didn’t even notice that Marco’s tongue was in his mouth until he was licking at the inside of the other man’s teeth, exploring as much of him as he could manage.

The kiss was sloppy, and when they broke away a string of saliva hung between them for a moment before breaking. Jean wiped his chin with his sleeve, staring at Marco with heavily lidded, slightly unfocused eyes.

“That was okay,” said Jean, reflecting on the kiss. “It was nice.”

“Yeah,” agreed Marco. “I liked it.”

“Want to do it again?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Jean knew that he should have been worried about something else, something pressing, but couldn’t order his thoughts long enough to reflect on it. With his blood flooded with alcohol and the taste of Marco on his tongue, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be smut in this story. I swear.
> 
> Now is just not the time.
> 
> In the next few days I'll be posting a new side chapter that focuses on the Jean/Eren dynamics before Eren quit the PD. That will be located [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4168149/chapters/9408852) when it's up. 
> 
> As always, thanks for hanging out!


	21. Annie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you in the U.S. - Happy "Gay Marriage is now Constitutionally Accepted Nationwide" Day. I wasn't expecting it, but for once my country managed to do something right. 
> 
> In regards to the fic, thank you all for your feedback and support. This story means a lot to me for several reasons, and knowing that others enjoy it and find some sort of meaning it just thrills me more than I can say. You're all absolutely wonderful.

“Eren!” Armin smiled and waved from his seat when he saw his friend walk through the door, looking around as if hopelessly confused. When he caught sight of Armin he appeared relieved and strode over with an expression that was as close to a smile as he could manage.

“Hey Armin. Uh, what the hell is this?”

Armin smiled sheepishly. “You said it was okay to let her pick, so I did. Apparently she has better taste than us.”

Eren looked over his shoulder at the restaurant, which was about three levels of class above what he was used to. The most casually dressed person he saw was wearing tan slacks and a white button up. At least, they had been the most casually dressed until Eren had walked in. 

Ignoring the several stares that followed him, Eren took the chair across from Armin. He wondered if his friend had asked for this seating specifically so that Eren could sit against the back wall as he preferred. 

“Where is she?”

“Oh, uh, she went to the restroom,” said Armin. “Hey, Eren?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Will you please try to get along with her?” he asked, his face almost pleading. “She seems kind of hard at first, but when you get to know her she’s actually really cool.”

Eren settled back against the padding of the chair, considering his friend with a measure of confusion. Armin seemed absolutely certain that Eren wouldn’t like his new girlfriend, and Eren didn’t understand why. He’d never had an issue with any of Armin’s dates in the past. He wondered what was different about this girl that had Armin so convinced that he wouldn’t approve. 

“Of course, Armin. I already told you, as long as she makes you happy, that’s all I care about. You deserve a good girlfriend for once, that last bitch you hooked up with was crazy.”

“Crazy?” A blonde woman took the seat next to Armin, a slight smirk lifting one side of her mouth. “How about that, I am your type.”

Armin ignored the comment and looked back at Eren, the worry evident on his face.

Eren didn’t notice. His jaw had gone slack, his brain struggling to come to terms with the current situation. When the wires finally connected, he stood so suddenly that his chair toppled over behind him, crashing to the floor and making everyone in the restaurant turn toward their table. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he said, too loudly. He pointed at Annie, his hand shaking with anger. “Not you. You get the hell away from me.”

“Eren, please,” begged Armin at a much more appropriate volume. “You said you’d try to get along. You said you’d--”

“Not with her,” he spat, lowering his hand and clenching it into a fist at his side. “Never with her. What are you doing with this bitch, Armin? Didn’t she tell you anything about herself?”

“Sit down,” Armin pleaded, looking over his shoulder and shrinking under the stares. “Please, just sit down and we’ll talk about it. Don’t make this a big deal.”

“A big deal?” Eren repeated. “Of course it’s a big deal. I wouldn’t eat in the same room as her. I’m sure as hell not sitting at the same table.”

With a last glare he stomped away from the table, leaving his chair abandoned on the floor. Before he made it four steps away an iron grip locked around his upper arm, spinning him around. Annie tightened her hold when he tried to pull away, her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him.

“I know you don’t like me, Jaeger,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t blame you, and I don’t particularly like you either. But I do like your friend, and I’m willing to listen to your stupid mouth if it means making him happy. So why don’t you sit your ass back down and try to be civil. For him.”

He looked over her shoulder at Armin, whose obvious distress made Eren feel a pang of guilt. He ground his teeth together, chewing on the bitter words that he would like to fling in Annie’s face. Instead he pulled away from her, and this time she let him.

He teetered between his hatred of Annie and his love for Armin, and realized that Armin would always have the edge in that battle. Despite his reluctance, he circled back around the table, picked up his chair, and sat back down with a huff and a scowl.

The waiter wandered over immediately afterward, probably checking to see if there had been any bloodshed. Since Eren was busy attempting to pyrokinetically set Annie on fire, Armin ordered his drink for him. When they were again alone, it was Armin who had to break the tense silence.

“Eren, I know you’re angry,” he said, “but--”

“You knew, didn’t you?” said Eren flatly, now allowing him to finish. “You knew who she was and what she does and you didn’t even tell me.”

“I didn’t know how to say it!” said Armin. “I knew you would react like this. If I’d told you beforehand you wouldn’t have come.”

“No. I wouldn’t have.”

“I just wanted us to sit down together and talk,” he pushed. “Annie told me about some of the things that went on between you, and she feels bad about it, and I thought we could--”

“Like hell she does,” snapped Eren, pounding a fist on the table. “She was right there with the rest of them having a grand fucking time.” His voice went up an octave as he mimicked her. “Did you hear about Jaeger? He’s a flaming fucking faggot. He’s so gay he shits rainbows.”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic,” said Annie, rolling her eyes. Her chin was resting in her hand and she eyed Eren coolly, unruffled. “Maybe we were a little too harsh on you, but come on. Jean was the worst. The rest of us were just playing. You took it too seriously. Besides, Jaeger, you're just such an easy target.”

Eren’s jaw dropped. Before he could respond, Armin jumped in.

“Annie, please. This is hard enough, you’re just making it worse.”

Her eyes slid over to him and her expression fractionally softened. With a sigh she turned back to Eren. “Fine. Sorry, Jaeger. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. We were out of line.”

“Fuck you. You think that makes it better? You think that makes it all go away?”

“No.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “But I think it’s a start.”

Armin smiled a little and turned his attention to Eren. 

“Don’t look at me. I’m not accepting that shitty apology after all she’s said to me.”

“That’s fine, you don’t have to,” said Armin. “Just try to get along. Please, for me.”

Eren heaved a sigh and slid another glare toward Annie before settling into a less rigid posture. “Fine. I’ll try not to hit her. No promises, though.”

“We’ve fought each other in training exercises, Jaeger. We both know how that would turn out.”

Eren decided to disregard the jab, knowing it would start a whole new argument. Instead he asked, begrudgingly, “How did this happen anyway? You’re a decent person, Armin. How’d the two of you end up together?”

“He fixed my security system,” said Annie. “He just looked so adorable doing it that I couldn’t help myself.”

Armin flushed, a smile creeping onto his face. 

“Gag,” said Eren flatly.

Annie smirked. “Jealous, Jaeger?”

“Fuck you, Annie.”

“So Eren,” said Armin, deciding that steering the conversation into different territory would be safer. “What’s going on with you? Did you have fun at Levi’s house last night?” Annie perked up at the mention of Levi’s name, but the men didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. It was fun.”

Immediately Armin latched onto Eren’s dismissive response. “Did something happen?” He leaned forward, eyeing Eren with raised eyebrows. “Did the two of you… you know.”

“No!” said Eren, his voice nearly scraping a shout. “Of course we didn’t.”

“Did you ask him if he likes men?” pressed Armin. “You said you were going to.”

“Oh my god, Armin, not in front of _her_.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” said Annie. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

“It’s fine, she doesn’t even know him,” said Armin. “Technically I don’t even know him, I only saw him once and I didn’t even meet him. Are you going to introduce me?”

“Yeah, maybe. If you want.”

“Sure, I’d like to meet your boyfriend.”

Eren’s face turned red so quickly that he felt like he’d popped his head into an oven. “Don’t say that! He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you want him to be, right?”

“Stop it!” he glanced to Annie, who was enjoying the conversation a little too much. “I don’t know what I want. We kind of talked about it, but I don’t think--”

“What did he say? Is he into you?”

“Fucking Christ, Armin.” Eren slapped his palms over his eyes, unable to face any more of the embarrassment. “He said he’s dated guys before.”

“And?”

“And I told him I liked him.”

“And?”

Eren swallowed, trying to pretend Annie wasn’t sitting two feet away from him. Like Armin said, though, she didn’t know Levi anyway. “And he said he liked me too.”

“So he is your boyfriend!” said Armin, his voice peaking a little too loudly for Eren’s taste. 

He uncovered his eyes and looked around to see if anyone at the neighboring tables had heard. If they had, they had chosen to ignore the outburst. 

“Armin, come on, not so loud. I don’t want anyone to overhear that.”

“Wow, Jaeger, you’re still embarrassed about the gay factor?” asked Annie. “At this point I think you’d be better off to embrace it.”

“Shut your damn mouth, Annie.”

“She’s right, Eren,” said Armin. Eren looked like his best friend had literally stabbed him in the back. “There’s no point being ashamed of it. If you’re gay, you’re gay. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Eren frowned down at the table. “Yeah, that’s what Levi said.” When his mind drifted back to Levi, he suddenly remembered a conversation that they’d had. Levi had stated that he knew Jean because they had the same clientele. 

If Jean knew him, then Annie would, too.

He gaped at her, horrified.

“Annie,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper. “You know him. You know Levi.”

She tilted her head, as if considering the statement. “I know someone named Levi. It would make my day if it was the same person, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. The Levi I know is definitely straight.”

Eren wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

The waiter swooped in then, and Eren felt he’d probably been waiting for a calm moment to approach. The man delivered their drinks and flipped open a notepad to scribble down their orders. 

Annie requested something in another language that sounded disgusting. Armin ordered something with chicken, and Eren was left scowling down at the menu he hadn’t bothered to open.

“I don’t want anything,” he muttered. “If Annie likes this place then it’s probably shit.”

“He wants the spaghetti,” said Armin, pretending that Eren hadn’t spoken. 

When the waiter had gathered the menus and left, Eren again spoke.

“If it’s the same Levi, you can’t tell him anything I said. Please, Annie.”

“Well if it is, I hardly ever see him anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, holding her gaze. “I don’t want him to know I said anything about him. I already can’t figure out why he even likes me, but I don’t want to ruin it. Please.”

“Jesus, Jaeger, I won’t say anything.”

“Not to anyone else either,” Eren pressed. “The rest of the shift knows him too. You can’t tell them about this.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not going to tell them I even had dinner with you. I’m definitely not going to sit them down in a circle and tell them your life story.”

Eren exhaled heavily, unaware that he’d been holding his breath. “Thanks, Annie. Sorry I yelled at you.”

“Whatever, you’re really not.” She looked from him to Armin, then produced a cell phone and started flicking through her photos. “Here, I have something to show you. Consider it a peace offering.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a picture that’s going to make your day, Jaeger.”

When she finally found what she was looking for she smiled, a genuine expression that Eren felt was a sharp contrast to her typical smirk. 

“Here, take a good long look at this.”

She laid her phone flat on the table and slid it over. Eren leaned forward to see and his mouth fell open.

“Holy shit. Did Jean nail that guy?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”


	22. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized this fic is over halfway finished. Only 19 chapters left!

Unfortunately the overuse of alcohol from the night before didn’t conveniently wipe Jean’s memory clean like it had the morning after Annie’s party. As soon as he opened his eyes he knew exactly what he had done.

Jean was mortified. 

He sat up quickly, the weight of his hangover easily pushed aside by the urgent realization of his situation. Marco was lying beside him, a mess of black hair and freckles. And a very noticeable dark bruise marring the skin of his exposed neck.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Jean hissed. He threw off the sheets and felt a small measure of relief that he was still clothed. Before he’d crawled to the edge of the bed Marco had already started to stir, nestling more comfortably into his pillow before cracking his eyes open. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light that streamed through the room’s single window. When he saw Jean his mouth curved into a smile, a dimple marking his cheek. Then, his expression so obvious that Jean could practically watch the thoughts churning through his mind, Marco’s content grin gave way to a look of pure, wide-eyed horror.

He pushed himself upright, his wrinkled white t-shirt snug against his chest. Jean was just glad he was still wearing a shirt. 

“Oh no,” whispered Marco. One of his hands went to his head and he winced. Jean didn’t know if it was from the hangover he was probably nursing or from the pain of humiliation. He was personally suffering from both.

“Yeah,” said Jean, pointedly looking away from him. “Is there any possible way you don’t remember what happened last night?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Marco shaking his head slowly, carefully.

“No. I… I remember.”

“Shit.” He put his feet on the floor and hunched over, cradling his head in his hands. 

“It’s okay,” Marco said. Jean felt the mattress shift as his bedmate moved. 

He reminded himself that a man had spent the night in his bed and suddenly he felt certain he would be sick.

A feather-light touch brushed his shoulder and Jean was immediately on his feet, lurching away from the bed. He turned to see Marco sitting with his arm still outstretched, looking absolutely dejected. Marco let his hand fall limply back to the mattress, sitting cross-legged amid a bundle of sheets.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Marco, his head lowered.

“How did this happen?” said Jean, refusing to believe that he had been a contributor. “I said I would let you sleep on my couch. How the fuck did you get in my bed? And why the fuck did you… did we… Fuck!” He turned around and pounded a fist against the wall, so angry at himself that he couldn’t even put his feelings into words. 

Jean Kirschtein was not gay. He did not kiss men. Not ever.

This must’ve been Marco’s fault. It was his fault at Annie’s, and it was his fault now. Jean was perfectly fine until Marco came along and fucked everything up. He’d probably spiked his drink, dropped in a roofie or two so that Jean would bring him home and do anything he wanted.

He ignored the fact that he knew roofies worked differently. He more strongly ignored the knowledge that he’d been a willing participant in the physical contact the night before, that he’d been the one who suggested they share his bed.

“Get out.”

“…what? Jean, I didn’t--”

“You heard me, Bodt,” he snapped over his shoulder, still not looking directly at Marco. He was afraid that if he did, if he caught sight of those sad puppy eyes, it would drain some of his anger, and his anger was the only thing he could hold onto. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Jean, please. We need to talk about this. We were drunk, it’s not like we planned this. It’s not that bad.”

“I said get out!” he shouted, so loudly that his throat burned. “Out of my fucking apartment! Just get out!”

He stood with his back to Marco, shaking fists clenched tightly at his sides. He didn’t turn around as he heard shuffle of motion, the sound of feet hitting the floor, the sweep of slow footsteps crossing the room. Marco had to pause to retrieve his shoes from the foot of the bed but didn’t stop to put them on. He started out of the room but lingered in the doorway, looking back at Jean, who still resolutely faced the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean… I’m just sorry, Jean.”

He received no response. 

Jean didn’t move until he heard Marco pace across the living room floor and heard the click of the front door indicate his departure. When he turned around and again saw the twisted sheets he remembered going to sleep with Marco’s back against his chest, recalled the phantom taste of Marco’s skin on his tongue.

“Fuck!” He spun back around and slammed his fist into the wall. It was too sturdy to collapse beneath the blow, but his knuckles weren’t so lucky. Five minutes later he was perched on the edge of the bathtub with a wad of toilet paper wrapped around his bloody hand, cursing everything in his life that had led him to that point.

The worst part was going to be when he went back on shift the following day and had to face Marco again. The first time had been bad enough. This one was worse. If Marco remembered everything, then he remembered that it was Jean who’d breached the subject. Marco remembered what Jean had told him about Annie’s house.

Jean didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he told the rest of the shift. The conclusions they’d drawn from that stupid picture were bad enough, but if they had proof that something had gone on between Marco and him… 

“I’ll kill him,” Jean muttered to himself. “If he even thinks about telling anyone, I swear to god I’ll fucking kill him.”

Someone rapped on the front door, and Jean knew exactly who it was. It had barely been ten minutes since Marco had left, and he wasn’t ready to face him again just yet. He was afraid he’d do something that would fuck up his other hand. 

He planned to sit and wait until Marco went away, but when the knocking continued for a solid minute he pushed himself to his feet and stomped through the apartment, jaw tightened in anger.

He seized the doorknob and slung it open, a biting comment crouched on his tongue, waiting to pounce. The words crawled away when he saw it wasn’t Marco at the door after all.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said Annie, observing him with a raised brow. “You look like shit.”

“The fuck do you want?”

“Nice to see you too, asshat,” she said. She sidestepped him and invited herself into his apartment. With a huff he pushed the door shut behind her and reached for the light switch, belatedly realizing that it had never been turned off the night before. His hand fell back to his side and he turned toward Annie, who was offering a Starbucks cup in an extended hand. “Figured you were hungover. Here, coffee is supposed to help.”

He reached for it, but stopped halfway through the motion and switched hands, accepting it with his left. Annie’s attention was drawn to the bloodstained toilet paper wrapped around his right knuckles.

“What the hell? Get in a barfight?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, dropping onto the couch and taking a sip of the coffee. It was black, just as he liked it, and hot enough to scald his tongue. 

“Alright then, what happened?” she followed him and dropped onto the middle cushion, reaching out to take his wrist. He didn’t resist as she unwound the makeshift wrapping, revealing the busted, bleeding skin beneath. “This is fresh,” she noted, her eyes snapping up to his. “Did you just do this?”

He shrugged, taking another burning sip.

Annie studied his face for a long moment, then finally concluded, “You punched the wall again, you idiot.”

“Fuck you, Annie.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Leave me alone. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

“Because yesterday you said you were going out drinking and you wouldn’t answer my texts today so I figured I’d make sure you were still alive.”

“Well I am. You can go.”

“You look like you just woke up after bad sex,” said Annie, eyeing his mussed hair. “Did you bring a hooker home last night?”

“Can you stop talking for two minutes? My head hurts bad enough without you yapping in my ear.”

Annie rolled her eyes and settled back against the couch. Then she was leaning forward again, removing a coat that was wedged between her back and the cushion. “Do you ever clean this place, Kirschtein?” she asked. She started to toss the coat to the side, but something made her hesitate. 

Annie had known Jean for a while. They had worked on the same shift for three years and had shared an overlapping zone for the past two. She felt that she was familiar enough with his tastes and preferences to safely assume that the jacket she’d unearthed from the couch was definitely not something he would wear.

“Jean? Whose coat is this?”

His reaction sealed the suspicion. Jean narrowed his eyes at the garment and inhaled sharply. “Give me that,” he said, leaning over her to snatch at the coat. 

Annie rolled to her feet and backed away from him, still holding it in an outstretched hand. “Oh my god,” she said. “This is Marco’s, isn’t it? You went drinking with Marco and brought him home last night. Is he still here? What did you do?”

“It’s mine, just put it down.”

“You’re a damn liar. You fucked Marco.”

“I did not!” Jean was on his feet before he realized he’d moved, snatching the coat away and flinging it across the room. “He was drunk so I let him sleep on my couch. Stop saying shit like that.”

“So he slept on your couch without bothering to move his coat first? Or that pile of shit you keep on the end?” She pointed to the heap of clothing and loose pieces of mail that had been tossed onto the far end of the sofa. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even fit on the couch with all your trash there.”

“Annie, I swear to god if you don’t shut up…”

She ignored the threat, stepping past him to peer through the bedroom door. Her eyes swept over the crumpled sheets and the pair of pillows at the head of the bed, both of them compressed from recent pressure. She looked over her shoulder at Jean, her eyebrows rising so high that they nearly touched her hairline.

“Oh my god,” she said. “I was kidding, but you really did. You really nailed him.”

“I did not!” shouted Jean. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the doorway, planting himself between her and the bedroom. “Nothing happened! I’m not a fag, Annie, you know that!”

“You shouldn’t say that, it’s demeaning.”

“What the fuck, Annie?”

“Just saying. You should avoid the word, especially if you’re the one sharing your bed with other guys.”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated through gritted teeth. 

“Then why are you so defensive?”

“Because you came in here attacking me!” he said. “I have to be defensive because you’re not listening to me.”

“Oh, I’m listening,” she said. “I hear what you’re saying loud and clear.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Okay, nothing happened. Just like nothing happened at my house. It’s perfectly normal for two men to sleep half-naked in the same bed. That’s a thing that friends do.”

“Annie.”

“Jean.”

“You can’t breathe a word of this,” he said, so close that Annie had to take a step back to escape his morning breath, infused with coffee and lingering alcohol. “Not to anyone. You have to swear, Annie.”

“Well if nothing happened then what’s the point of keeping a secret?”

“I know it looks bad, everyone else will think it looks bad. They’ll think we hooked up and we didn’t, I swear we didn’t.”

Annie reached out and patted him on the cheek, as if comforting a child. “Sure you didn’t. Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Really? You swear?”

“I swear.” She drew an X over her chest with her index finger. “I’ll just add it to my collection of secrets. It’s growing pretty quickly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Kirschtein. Don’t worry about me, I think you have your own set of problems. If you’ll get yourself cleaned up I’ll take you out for breakfast.”

“Yeah?” he said, pulling a look of disgust. “Won’t your little boy toy be jealous? Are you still stringing him along?”

“Hey, I like him,” she said, aiming a punch at Jean’s arm. He winced and stepped back. “He’s sweet. Of course, we’re not moving as fast as you and Marco, but sometimes it’s okay to take it slow.”

“I swear to god, Annie--”

“Yeah, yeah, just go get ready. I’m not taking you out in public looking like you just got assfucked.” 

He scowled and stormed into his bedroom, slamming his door behind him. Annie returned to the couch, perching on the edge and whipping out her cell phone. She opened the camera and carefully framed a picture of Marco’s jacket, now lying crumpled on the floor of the apartment. 

She wasn’t planning to tell anyone about this little incident yet, but having a good source of blackmail never hurt.


	23. Date

Eren fidgeted in the passenger seat of Levi’s car, pulling absently at the sleeves of his black button-up. He’d decided to dress a little more nicely than usual, but it had been months since he’d worn anything other than his faded t-shirts and it was more uncomfortable than he remembered.

Beside him Levi was loosening the knot of his tie. “We’ll only be here for a minute,” he said, slipping the loop of silk over his head. “I promised Petra I’d stop by. I don’t want to hear her whine about it if I don’t.” He tossed the tie into the backseat and popped open the first two buttons of his shirt. He had picked Eren up directly after work and was still wearing his dress shirt and slacks from a long day at court. 

“No, that’s fine,” said Eren. “I don’t mind. Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?” 

“Does Petra know?”

“Be more specific.”

Eren took a breath, staring at his hands. “Does she know what we’re doing tonight?”

“Of course not. I said I wouldn’t tell anyone about you and I haven’t.”

His relief was palpable. “Does she know about you?”

“She knows I’ve been out with guys, if that’s what you mean. She knows a lot of things about me.”

“Does Hanji know, too?”

“Of course she does. I haven’t guarded the information with my fucking life like you’ve been doing. I don’t care if they know.”

“What would’ve happened if they hadn’t been okay with it?” asked Eren, fiddling with the button on his cuff. 

“Then I would’ve said ‘fuck you’ and found better friends. Who the hell cares what they think? Come on, let’s go in here and get this over with so we can get something to eat before I fucking starve.”

He shoved the door open and stepped out, Eren mimicking him with a little reluctance. He’d gone places with Levi before, but it was usually with Petra or Hanji or some of Levi’s other friends. That night was different. Levi had asked him to go to dinner, and Eren knew that it was a date. Eren was going on a date. With a man. On a _date_.

Trying to quash his nerves, he followed Levi to the door of the bar. The sun was starting to fade on the horizon, but it wasn’t dark enough for the street lights to have kicked on yet. Levi had left work a little early to make sure they had enough time to go out and be home at a reasonable hour. It was Wednesday, so he still had to get up early and go back to work the next morning. 

As soon as the pair walked through the door, Gunther and Eld heralded Levi from a nearby table. He sighed and frowned at them. “Go on to the bar and see Petra,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

He broke away from Eren to join the two, standing by their table instead of dropping into one of the vacant chairs to socialize. Eren kept walking and slid onto one of the stools at the bar. Seconds later Petra was skipping over to him, grinning.

“Eren! How’s it going, sweetie?”

“Good, how’re you?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking! Do you want a drink?”

“Uh, no, thanks. Levi and I are going to get food.”

Petra tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned on the bar between them. “That’s weird, we usually always go out on weekends. Oh, wait, I guess it’s because of Erwin’s party on Friday. Are you going?”

“Umm…” Eren tried to come up with an intelligent response, but he had no idea what she was talking about. “Who’s Erwin?”

“Oh right, you were on the phone when he stopped by the other night. It’s Levi’s neighbor, they’ve been friends for a long time. Way longer than I’ve known him.”

With that statement prompting his memory, Eren remembered Levi mentioning a party that his neighbor was having, one that he wasn’t particularly looking forward to. “Right. No, I’m not going. Why would I?”

“I just thought he would probably ask you to,” shrugged Petra. “Hanji and I are going. Levi and Erwin are such good friends that he could probably invite whoever he wanted and Erwin wouldn’t care.”

Eren frowned, uncertain how he felt about Levi being ‘such good friends’ with someone that he’d never even mentioned. He’d thought Hanji and Petra qualified as Levi’s best friends. He liked to think maybe he was becoming one of them, too.

“Maybe it just slipped his mind,” said Petra, picking up on his concern. “He has a lot of stuff going on. I’m sure he’ll invite you and we can all go together. It’ll be fun!” 

Eren nodded, uncertain how he should respond.

“So where are you going to eat?”

“Umm…”

“I made reservations that are none of your business,” said Levi, inserting himself into their conversation as he took the stool beside Eren. “And if we don’t leave in the next five minutes we’ll be late, so if you have something you want to talk about then talk.”

“Reservations?” repeated Petra, surprised. “That’s pretty fancy for a Wednesday night. What’s the occasion?”

Levi opened his mouth, probably to offer a response that spared Eren some embarrassment. Instead Eren answered first, shocking both of them.

“It’s a date,” he said, trying to arrange his face in a way that wouldn’t reveal how difficult it had been to force out those three words. “We’re going on a date. Together.”

Eren couldn’t decide who appeared more baffled; Levi or Petra. He tried to pretend his face wasn’t the temperature of hellfire as he waited for them to respond. 

Finally, Petra let out a long sigh. “Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. When her gaze fell back to Eren she reached out and patted the side of his face. “Guess I didn’t have a chance with you after all, huh, sweetie?”

Eren sputtered over his words until Levi took Petra’s wrist and pushed her hand away. “She’s kidding,” he said flatly, nudging Eren with his elbow and prompting him to stand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Uh, okay.” 

Obediently, Eren trotted after Levi as he crossed the floor, his strides covering a surprising amount of ground considering his height. When they were almost to the door Eren glanced back to see Petra waving. “Bye!” she called. “Have fun on your date!”

Eren dashed through the door before he noticed if anyone in the bar had stopped to stare, grateful for the cool breeze that ghosted over his warm face. When he finally coerced himself into looking at Levi, after they’d gotten into the Lexus and joined the rest of the evening traffic, he found an amused smirk on the older man’s face.

“What?” said Eren, his tone defensive.

“I like when you’re embarrassed,” he said, sliding a quick glance in Eren’s direction. “It’s captivating.”

Eren was captivating all the way to the restaurant. 

When they arrived and Levi parked his car farther away from the door than Eren felt was necessary, they sat for a moment in silence. Slowly, Eren turned his head to study Levi. “Cheesecake Factory?” he asked skeptically. “What was all that you were saying about reservations?”

“It was a joke,” he said, shrugging. “I was joking. Do I really seem like the kind of person who goes to fancy ass restaurants? This is as fancy as it gets, kid. If you don’t like it find another date.”

Eren nearly winced at the sharpness of the words, but realized there was a slight curve to Levi’s mouth, a subtle hint that he was being playful rather than condescending. “No, I’m okay with it. I like cheesecake.” 

With that, the two of them exited the vehicle and started walking through the parking lot, both with their hands stuffed into their coat pockets. “Besides,” said Eren, “I’ve already been to a fancy restaurant once this week. I wasn’t impressed.”

“You?” Levi raised an eyebrow. “Who dragged your ass somewhere classy?”

“My friend Armin,” he said with a sigh. “He’s dating this new girl, apparently she has expensive taste.” He glanced at Levi from the corner of his eye as he added, “Her name’s Annie. Annie Leonhardt.”

He didn’t offer the reaction that Eren was expecting. He barely reacted at all. 

“Is that so?” said Levi.

“Yeah. You know her, right?” 

“Mmm. Somewhat.” 

“Not well? Like, you guys aren’t close, right?”

Now it was Levi’s turn to observe Eren. “No, we’re not. I haven’t spoken to her in months. Why?”

“No reason,” said Eren quickly, trying to casually shrug off the question. Despite the suspicious way that Levi was eyeing him, he felt relieved. If Annie and Levi hadn’t interacted in that length of time it was unlikely that they would in the near future, so she wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell Levi anything that Eren had said about him. She’d promised to keep it to herself, but Eren would’ve been an idiot to trust everything she said. 

They didn’t speak again until they were standing in the lobby, waiting for a hostess to collect them. “Why’d you tell Petra?” asked Levi. 

He didn’t have to elaborate; Eren knew exactly what he meant. He tried to fight away any remaining reserves of embarrassment as he responded. “Because it was the truth. I mean, yeah, I might have a little bit of a problem with this… you know…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was within eavesdropping range before he continued, his voice low, “gay thing, but that’s on me. I’m working on it. Regardless of that, I’m not ashamed to be out with you. I mean look at you.”

Obligingly, Levi glanced down at himself before his gaze returned to Eren’s. “You don’t look so bad yourself, kid. You clean up nice.” 

Eren looked away, flushing, as the hostess arrived. The two of them dined comfortably, exchanging light stories and conversation. The food was exceptional, and when the check arrived Eren protested weakly that he could cover his own expenses, to no avail. He was still mumbling complaints when they walked back outside, where the temperature had plummeted another ten degrees.

“Just shut up and say thank you,” snapped Levi, scowling. “If I want to buy you a fucking steak then I’ll buy you a fucking steak. It’s a date, you moron.”

“That’s not a very romantic thing to say.”

“If you’re looking for romance then you’re looking in the wrong place, kid. I’m old and bitter. I don’t do romance.”

“You’re not old,” said Eren, letting the ‘bitter’ part slide. He wasn’t going to argue that one. “You keep saying that but you’re not.”

“Yeah? What do you consider to be old?”

Eren thought about it. “I guess forty. Forty is kind of old.”

“Then I guess I have a little less than a year before you’re done with me.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did Eren stopped in the middle of the parking lot, his jaw coming unhinged. “What? You’re thirty-nine?” 

“Last time I checked.”

“No. There’s no fucking way.” Eren shook his head, unable to accept it. To him, forty seemed ridiculously old, almost elderly. There was no way that Levi would hit that milestone when his next birthday rolled around. Admitting that he was thirty would be pushing it. Eren was more inclined to think that the man was only aged a few years more than he was.

“Deny it all you want, kid. You’re on a date with an old man. When we get in the car you’ll have to help me clean food out of my dentures.”

“Stop it,” said Eren, trying not to grin. “Forty’s not that old.”

“Oh, look who’s suddenly changed his mind.”

Eren rolled his eyes and started walking again. “Oh my god,” he said with sudden realization. “You’re a cougar. A gay cougar.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Levi shoved him, but beneath the scowl Eren saw that same curve flitting about his lips, suggesting he wasn’t as offended as he seemed.

When they reached the Lexus Levi stopped at the front bumper rather than getting inside. Trying to ignore the chill of the wind on the back of his neck, Eren did the same. “Does it bother you?” asked Levi.

“What, the age thing?” said Eren. “No, of course not. I don’t care how old you are.”

“Are you sure?” he took a step closer. “It’s a seventeen year gap. It’s not insignificant.”

“Of course I’m sure. I don’t care. Besides, you look good for an old guy.”

Levi’s smirk was barely discernible. He inched even closer, his chest nearly touching Eren’s. Slowly, he reached out and trailed a hand down the length of Eren’s arm, not breaking his gaze. “If it bothers you,” he said, his words warmly tangible on Eren’s chin, “I’ll back off. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Eren swallowed and tried not to look like a deer in the headlights of a monster truck.

“Uh, no, not uncomfortable.”

Levi’s hand moved to Eren’s face, trailing across his cheekbone, his skin burning from the contact. His fingers threaded into Eren’s unruly hair, gripping lightly. “You sure?”

“S-sure.”

“Good.”

Levi tugged Eren’s face down and pressed their lips together. Their breath was visible in the winter air, mingling like frail white smoke. Hesitantly, Eren wrapped his arms around Levi’s waist, enthralled by his warmth and his touch and the sensation of their tongues sliding together. 

It wasn’t until after Levi broke away that Eren remembered they were in public and glanced around to see if anyone had seen them. The parking lot was vacant. “Come on, kid,” said Levi. “I’ll take you home.”

“Home?” repeated Eren. “Why?”

“Because I have to be at the office at seven-fucking-o’clock in the morning,” said Levi. He allowed his eyes to trail down Eren’s body. “And if you go home with me then neither of us will get any damn sleep.”

He unlocked the car, which responded with a flash of headlights, and climbed inside. Eren slowly followed, hoping that Levi wouldn’t notice the awkward way that he shuffled to the passenger’s side. When he got inside, Levi cranked the heat up to the highest setting and Eren graciously huddled close to the dash.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the air vents. “For dinner, I mean.”

“Tch. Don’t be stupid.”


	24. Consequences

As badly as Jean wanted to just call into work for the next month, he’d already used up all of his sick leave when he’d gotten the flu a few months before. The next morning he dragged into the PD at five a.m., harboring hatred for the day shift and for his lack of sleep and for his life in general. He was the last one to arrive; the others were already sitting in the roll call room, some of them sleepily murmuring to one another, others looking as if they were about to nod off where they sat.

Jean paused as he stepped across the threshold, planning to make a quick retreat if necessary. The other officers glanced up at his entry and returned to their mumbles and dozes, unconcerned. He breathed a sigh of relief that was so heavy he expected his lungs to flip inside out. If Marco had said anything to anyone, it would have spread like wildfire. They would know, and they wouldn’t be able to just sit there and act as if nothing had happened. 

Annie’s eyes followed him as he took a seat on the opposite side of the room from his partner-in-training. After a minute had crawled by, Sergeant Shadis burst through the door, apparently unbothered by the early hour. As he confirmed that all of the shift’s officers were present, Jean scratched at the bulletproof vest underneath his shirt, the Velcro straps irritating him more than usual. 

As they were dismissed to patrol their assigned zones, Jean stood and started to follow the others out, but was stopped by the sound of his name in a sharp tone.

“Kirschtein! A word before you go.”

Suppressing a groan, he dropped back into his seat and waited. Reiner made a snide comment as he passed, but since it had nothing to do with Marco, Jean effectively ignored it.

Sergeant Shadis waited until the others had gone, only Jean and Marco remaining in their seats. For a moment Jean was angry that his partner hadn’t left, but realized he couldn’t go anywhere without Jean since they shared a cruiser.

“Kirschtein, the chief wants a word with you as soon as he comes in today,” said Shadis, his face drawn in the same stern expression as usual. 

“What about?” asked Jean, too tired to really care.

“About that shit that happened on Wednesday. I read the report. Are you trying to get him killed so you can have a new trainee?” snapped the sergeant, hitching a thumb in Marco’s direction.

“What?” Jean said, his voice edged with anger. “The hell are you talking about? If you read the report then you know it was a mistake.”

“ _Your_ mistake,” said Shadis. “The way you wrote up the incident makes it sound like it was all your fault.” His eyes slid to Marco, who quelled beneath the glare. “Whether that seems likely or not.”

“Fuck,” muttered Jean, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling rather than the sergeant. “Well, I haven’t been written up in over a year. I guess it’s about that time again.”

“Sergeant, sir?” said Marco, raising his hand like a kindergartner. He seemed to realize how juvenile the gesture was and quickly dropped his arm. “I’d like to add a supplement to the report. It wasn’t Jean’s fault, it was mine. If someone deserves to get written up it’s me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jean said, cutting off whatever response Shadis had opened his mouth to deliver. “All I’ll get is a mark on my record. As long as I don’t do anything else stupid for six months I’ll be fine. If you take the fall for giving someone the chance to shoot at you they’re not going to let it slide. You’ll be done, Bodt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Marco, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s the right thing to do. Everything about this job is about doing the right thing, and if I can’t then I don’t deserve to be here anyway.”

“I swear to god, Bodt, if you even think about--”

“That’s enough,” snapped Shadis. “From both of you.”

Marco winced under the harshness of the words, but Jean just glared. 

“Stop arguing like little girls. Both of you will talk to the chief and we’ll let him decide what to do about this clusterfuck.” He turned to leave the room, heavy boots thudding against the scuffed floor. “Be here at oh-eight-hundred hours sharp. I suggest the two of you get your shit together before then or he’ll send both of you home with pink slips.”

The sergeant stomped away, his exit followed by the weighty slam of the exterior door. The tense silence that he left behind was noxious. 

“Pink slips?” repeated Marco, looking across the room at Jean who was pointedly keeping his face toward the front of the room.

“When you get fired they give you a copy of the paperwork. It’s carbon, so our copy would be the pink one.”

“Oh.”

Jean knew he should get up, that he should be on his way to the cruiser to do his job, but he knew there were problems to be addressed. It was best to do so in the relative privacy of the empty PD.

“Why do you want to do this?” he asked. “Why do you want to be a cop?”

For a long moment Marco was silent. When he finally answered, his voice was small. “It’s what I studied in college,” he said. “My dad was a lieutenant. It seems like the thing to do. It’s what I need to do.”

Finally Jean turned his head. Marco was staring at the surface of the table in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed. Not for the first time, Jean was aware how out of place Marco looked in the uniform. 

He was grateful that the collar was high enough to hide the bruise that bloomed on the side of Marco’s neck.

Suddenly Jean remembered when Eren was his partner, before he’d known about his weird personal problems, before he’d made it his mission to force Eren to quit. He’d asked the same question; he asked all of his trainees. A big part of the job was the motivation to do it, the reason for putting yourself through the long hours and deleteriously stressful situations. Some answers were better than others, but he still remembered what Eren had said.

_“Dude, the world is shit.”_ Eren had said it with complete nonchalance, a shrug of his shoulders and a twist of his mouth. _“I doubt that anything I ever do will really change anything in the long run. But I feel like I need to try, you know? If I can help someone, even just one person, then that’s what I want to do. I know I can’t change the world, but I want to make a difference. This is the best way, I think. This is how I can make a difference.”_

Jean sighed at the memory, impressed by the kid’s attitude all over again. He really had been a good officer for the short time that he’d been there. He’d had the skill, the ability, the determination. 

And Eren had never allowed anyone to point a loaded gun at him.

“Fuck,” said Jean, the single profanity carrying the weight of the world. 

For the first time, he realized he’d fucked up with Eren Jaeger. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he murmured to himself, pushing his chair back and standing. Marco mimicked him, confused. “Too late now. He’s a freak anyway.”

Even as the muttered words filtered from his mouth he remembered pinning Marco on his bed in drunken abandon, kissing him like his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” he repeated, a little too loudly. He kicked the chair back underneath the table and started toward the door. Marco hesitantly followed, eyeing Jean as if afraid his training officer was suffering from a mental fracture.

Before Jean reached the door he turned, jabbing a finger into Marco’s chest. “I don’t care what the fuck you think, Bodt. You’re going to be an officer. If you tell the chief you’re done then I swear to god I will shoot you myself.”

Marco stammered over his response, thrown by the venom in Jean’s voice. “I’m not! I won’t, I mean, I’m just going to tell him what happened. The truth.”

“The truth is that I shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone,” said Jean. “I won’t let him fire you, not yet. You’re still redeemable.” It didn’t matter how naturally inclined he was for the job. It didn’t matter if he didn’t take to it as if it was second nature, like Jaeger had. Jean still hated Eren Jaeger, and it didn’t matter what weird shit had happened with Marco. The freckled idiot was still one of the best people Jean had ever met, and if anyone deserved to be successful, it was Marco Bodt. “It’ll be fine. Don’t you dare give up.”

He turned and gripped the door handle, but Marco’s voice froze him in place before he could exit.

“What about us?”

He looked over his shoulder, jaw set. “What kind of fucked up question is that?”

“No, I just mean… well, are we good? I don’t want what happened to affect us. I know you were really mad, and I get that, but I just--”

“I’m sorry,” said Jean, the unexpected sentiment making Marco swallow his words. “I’m not going to say it again. I was too hard on you that morning and it wasn’t your fault. We’re just going to forget it ever happened and never mention it to anyone. It’s over. Got it?”

“Yeah, definitely. Got it.”

Jean flung the door open and stepped onto the single step that dropped onto the parking lot. He expected his cruiser to be the only one present, but another was parked nearby, its driver leaning casually against the bumper, waiting.

“Fuck off, Annie.”

She raised her eyebrows at the rude remark, but was unbothered. “Nice to see you too, Kirschtein. I actually wanted to talk to Marco, not you.”

Jean’s path to his car was interrupted. He stopped suddenly, pivoting to face her. “About what?”

“None of your business, grumpy ass.” She tilted her head toward Marco, who had paused uncertainly a few feet away from her cruiser. “So Marco, what are your plans for the weekend?”

“Uh, I don’t really have any,” he replied, looking from her to Jean and back again. The tense atmosphere between the two was unsettling. “Why?”

“There’s a party tonight,” she said, “at the chief’s house. It’s an exclusive event, law enforcement only. Usually only those of us who have been on for a few years are invited, but it’s okay if we bring a plus one. Do you want to come?”

“You want me to go?”

“Sure, it’ll be good for you to mingle with some of the veteran officers. Their experience might rub off on you.”

“What about your little boy toy?” asked Jean sharply. “Aren’t you bringing him to show off?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to scare him,” she said with a shrug. “Armin is a little timid. I don’t think he would enjoy being trapped in a house full of drunk cops. We get a little rowdy.”

“Newbies aren’t supposed to come,” protested Jean. 

“He won’t be there as a newbie, he’ll be there as my plus one.”

“That’s okay, Annie,” said Marco, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated any further. “I don’t want to go if it’s going to make Jean uncomfortable. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not uncomfortable!”

“Then there’s not a problem,” Annie concluded. “Be at my house by six, I’ll drive you over. It’s not far from my place.”

“Umm, okay,” said Marco, still watching Jean uncertainly. “Thanks, Annie.”

“No problem.” She turned away from him and offered Jean a subtle wink before circling her car and climbing into the driver’s seat. She backed out of the parking space quickly, making Jean hustle a few steps back to avoid getting nudged by the rear bumper.

“You blonde bitch,” he hissed as she drove away. He stalked toward his cruiser, walking to the driver’s side automatically. “Come on, Marco. Let’s fucking go."

  


  


When they walked out of the chief’s office at nine o’clock, both Jean and Marco still had their jobs. 

They didn’t exchange conversation as they navigated the halls of the PD to the roll call room, where Reiner was lounging back in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on a table. 

“There’s my new bitch,” he said when they entered the room. He shifted, the front legs of his chair slamming against the floor, and stood. 

“Don’t be a dick,” said Jean. “We just got our asses handed to us. You could show a little sympathy.”

“Sorry, I don’t feel sympathy.” He pounded a fist against his chest. “Heart of stone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jean. “I’ll get his gear out of my cruiser. We’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

“Make it quick, I have training to do.” Reiner stepped forward and slapped Marco on the shoulder. “We’re going to have some fun, Bodt. Hope you’re ready for it.”

Jean scowled at Reiner’s back until the man was gone. When he turned to Marco his expression softened a little. “The first few days with him are going to be hell,” he said bluntly. “You’re going to wish you’d never even thought about signing up for this job.”

Marco tried to smile. “It’ll be fine. Reiner is an okay guy.”

“Yeah, he’s fine as a person. When he goes into training mode it’s a different story. He’s going to try and tear you apart. Just keep your head up and don’t let him get to you, got it?”

Marco nodded, not quite meeting Jean’s eyes. “I was going to have to train with him soon, anyway. It’s not much of a difference, right?”

Jean sighed, exhausted by Marco’s lingering thread of optimism. “Well yeah, it kind of is. You’re repeating the entire phase. That means anything we’ve done was pretty much a waste of time. He’s going to re-teach everything, and not as nicely as I did the first time.”

“…oh.”

“It’ll be fine though,” said Jean. “Just make it through a phase with Reiner and you’ll get a different training officer. They’ll probably put you on shift 4 with Nile. He’s kind of an ass, but he knows what he’s doing.”

Marco just nodded.

“Then for your last phase they’ll probably put you back with me. That’s usually how it works. Your first trainer is also your last.”

“If I make it that long,” muttered Marco. Before Jean could respond to the statement he added, “Will you be on your own while I’m with Reiner?”

“Nah, since Bert is Reiner’s partner we’ll be working together until he’s finished with you.”

“Oh. Do you like working with him?”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” said Jean, wondering why they were having such an irrelevant discussion when there were much more pressing things to talk about. “The only thing about Bert is that he always cranks the air up, even in the dead of fucking winter. I’ll be freezing my ass off.”

Again Marco tried to smile, and it just wasn’t quite right. “Alright. Well, I guess I should get my stuff out of your car, right?”

“Right. Yeah, let’s go do that.”

They crossed the room and went outside together, where Bert was digging his traffic vest out of the backseat of Reiner’s car.

Jean felt like there was so much more he needed to say to Marco before he lost him as a trainee. There was so much more advice and warnings and instruction that he needed to give. It was too late for that, though, and ten minutes later he was driving down Second Street with a face full of cold air, hoping that Reiner wouldn’t crush the life out of Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just wanted to take a quick second to thank everyone who's read this far, and to those of you who leave kudos/comments! And especially to those of you who leave comments consistently. Your feedback is invaluable and I love you all. ^^


	25. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to apologize for the ending of this chapter... But the wise advice of Corporal Jean Kirschtein is to never apologize for anything. So I guess I won't. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry.

Eren didn’t see Levi for the next couple of days, but it didn’t really matter. He had been so thrilled by their date that the good mood still hadn’t worn off.

Mikasa was in the bathroom getting ready for a date with Mike, the door standing open so she and Eren could talk while she applied her eyeliner. 

“So where is he taking you?” Eren asked from the couch. He was lying on his back with his head hanging off of the cushions, legs flung over the back of the sofa. “Somewhere nice?”

“It’s some sort of work party,” she said, raising her voice so she could easily be heard from the other room.

Eren rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite reach the level of bitterness that he would have liked. He just couldn’t bring himself to dislike Mike just then. He couldn’t bring himself to dislike much of anything. He was still thinking about Levi walking him all the way to the door of Mikasa’s apartment when he’d dropped him off, about the goodnight kiss that had left him breathless.

“What are you doing tonight?” said Mikasa.

“Nothing.”

She peeked around the door. Her hair had been pinned back but the shorter pieces still fell forward to frame her face. “It’s Friday night. I thought maybe you and your boyfriend would go out.”

Startled, Eren tried to right himself but his struggle dumped him in the floor instead. He looked up at her from the carpet, his mouth hanging open. “How did you know about that?”

As pleased as he was with the way things were progressing with Levi, he’d made no mention of it to his sister. It still wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable talking about, and even though she had never said a cruel word, he was afraid that having an actual gay relationship may shake her opinion of him.

“Armin told me,” she said. She arranged her hair, moving it away from her eyes so she could study him. “When he realized you hadn’t mentioned it he regretted saying anything, so don’t blame him. Honestly, Eren, I’m surprised you’ve been keeping it a secret from me.”

“It’s not really a secret,” he said, the argument halfhearted. “I just didn’t know what you’d say.”

“I would say I’m happy for you, as long as he treats you well. You deserve to be happy, Eren. Don’t let your fear of others’ opinions take that away from you.”

“Thanks, Mikasa.”

“We should all have dinner together soon. I would like to meet him.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Eren, unwilling to deny her since she was being so accepting. “Whatever you want.”

“When is your next date?”

“Uh, tomorrow. We’re going to go do… something. We haven’t really decided what yet.”

Mikasa stepped out of the bathroom on bare feet, extending a hand. Eren took it and she pulled him upright. 

“I really am happy for you, Eren,” she said. “I was worried about you for a long time, but you’re doing much better. I love you, little brother.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug so tight that it forced the breath from Eren’s lungs. At first he was too surprised to react; he couldn’t remember the last time she had embraced him. When the initial shock wore off he circled his arms around her, his lips turning upward into a small smile. “Love you too, Mikasa.”

They broke apart, and the moment passed.

“I may stay at Mike’s tonight if we’re out late,” she said. “You can sleep in my bed, if you want. It must be more comfortable than the couch.”

“Can my boyfriend sleep in it, too?”

The question fell out of his mouth before Eren could stop it and he was horrified. For one thing, he was quite certain Levi would not be okay with being titled his boyfriend. Worse than that, he’d made an offhand joke about his sexuality, something that Eren did not do. Ever.

Mikasa raised an eyebrow at him, unruffled. “Sleep, yes. If you do anything more I suggest you wash the sheets directly afterward or I will use them to hang both of you.” She returned to the bathroom and Eren sagged onto the couch, so relieved that he could hardly breathe. 

Ten minutes later Mike arrived to pick up Mikasa. She rushed to zip up her boots, anxious to get out to the taxi since the meter was still running. He’d elected not to drive since he anticipated that he would be drinking more than just a couple of beers at the event. Eren knew Mikasa wouldn’t drink enough to seriously impair her cognitive function, but apparently she hadn’t volunteered to drive, either.

“Be careful,” he said, following Mikasa as she grabbed her coat and started toward the door. “Don’t stay out too late. Be careful what you drink, don’t take a cup from anyone.”

“I’m not going to be roofied, Eren,” she said. “It’s a work party. You do remember where Mike works.”

“Yeah, and I know other people who work there, too,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“It will be fine, Eren. Stop being weird.”

“Fine, ‘bye.”

“’Bye.”

She was halfway down the outside hall when he popped his head out the front door and shouted after her, “Call me if you need anything.”

She raised a hand in response, and she was too far away for Eren to tell if she was waving or flipping him off. Either was plausible.

He ducked back inside and turned the deadbolt on the door. Sighing, he turned to face the interior of the apartment, wondering what he was going to do for the rest of the night. He could go to the bar. Since Petra wasn’t there to cut him off he could probably drink as much as he wanted. It had been a while since he’d been certifiably drunk. He missed it a little, that fuzzy sensation in his head, the relief of having his worries wiped clean.

Now, though, he didn’t have as many worries to erase, and the urge to drink to the point of unconsciousness wasn’t nearly as appealing as it would have been a couple of weeks before. 

Before he could think on it any further, his cell phone rang. He patted his pocket, realized he’d left it on the couch, and dived between the cushions to retrieve it. 

“Hello?”

“EREN!” Hanji’s voice on the other end was deafening. “I haven’t seen you in so long! What time are you going?”

After recovering from the initial blast, it took Eren a moment to puzzle out what she meant. “Going where?”

“To the party! Is Levi picking you up?”

“Umm, I’m not going to the party,” said Eren. 

“Why?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” said Hanji. Eren could hear a dull roar in the background and wondered if she was driving. “Levi probably just thought you would be bored because he’s always bored. I can make sure you have fun, though! Do you want to go with me? I’ll swing by and pick you up. I’m on my way now!”

Eren’s spirits lifted at the thought of seeing Levi, but the fact that he hadn’t received an official invitation made him hesitate. If Levi had wanted him there he would have asked him. “No, Hanji, that’s okay. Thanks for calling, but I--”

“What’s your address?” asked Hanji, talking over him. “I’m in the middle of town right now so it doesn’t really matter where you live, I can be there soon!”

“I don’t think I should go, I don’t want Levi to think--”

“Eren, trust me, Levi will be ecstatic to see you! Sure, he’s dated other guys, plenty of other guys, but it’s different with you! He really likes you, don’t worry! He hates these kinds of parties, he’s trying to spare you. That’s all it is.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re sure,” said Eren. “I just don’t want him to be mad.”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m friends with Erwin too, I can bring whoever I want to his party! Address.”

Eren told her and she hung up with the promise that she would be there in five minutes. Hurriedly, Eren unearthed a less faded t-shirt and changed into a nicer pair of jeans, hoping that the party didn’t have a dress code. The least casual clothing he owned was the button-up that he’d worn on Wednesday, and it was in a rumpled pile at the foot of the couch, waiting to be washed. He laced up his sneakers, grabbed his coat, and jogged out the door, pausing just long enough to twist his key in the lock before walking swiftly to the parking lot. 

Just as he reached the first floor a sunshine yellow Volkswagen curved into the lot and pulled up to the curb. Hanji honked the horn, which was surprisingly high-pitched, and beamed at him. 

Eren considered turning around and walking away, but thought of Levi and forced himself to move forward and open the door of the blinding Beetle. He bent over to look at Hanji. “Seriously?”

“Get in, we’re going to be late!” she cackled and her foot slipped off the brake, jolting the car forward several inches before she stomped back down on it. “Who am I kidding, we’re already late. I’m always late.”

Despite his fear for his own safety, Eren got into the car and buckled himself in. Hanji sped off, slinging the steering wheel back and forth as she navigated turns and corners. Eren gripped the sides of his seat, clenched his teeth together, and tried not to panic. 

“So,” he said, trying to distract himself. “In all seriousness, am I going to be intruding on this party? I mean, Petra said that she was going, and you and Levi and his neighbor, so is it just you guys who’ve been friends for a while? I don’t want to impose.”

“Of course not! There will be lots of people there. It’s a great party every year.”

“Then why would he think I’d be bored?” asked Eren, trying to puzzle out the excuse that Hanji had given him for his lack of invitation.

“Because you won’t know anyone there,” said Hanji. “Other than us, of course.” She pondered for a moment, whipping around a slow-moving bus and cruising through a yellow light without slowing. “Also, there’s always lots of alcohol there, and he’s probably trying to keep you out of that environment. But let’s face it, if you start to drink too much and get obnoxious we’ll stop you. Petra will especially, she’s very protective.”

Eren frowned down at his lap. 

“Almost there!” said Hanji in a singsong voice, taking the next curve without slowing and swinging into the parking lot of Levi’s townhouse. It was packed full of cars, and Hanji casually pulled her Volkswagen onto the sidewalk and pulled the emergency brake. 

Eren had several things to say about illegal parking, but he decided to keep them to himself. Judging from the way that Hanji drove he doubted she had much respect for traffic laws.

Besides, he shouldn’t give a damn what laws anybody broke, anyway. He wasn’t a cop.

The thought was accidental, fleeting, and probably a result of the pair of police cars that were parked in the vacant lot across the street. Eren noticed them, but pushed them out of his mind just as quickly. He exited the car in unison with Hanji and followed her through the maze of vehicles, albeit with a little less bounce in his gait. 

He wondered if it was even possible for Hanji to be unhappy about anything. 

She skipped up the steps of the townhouse that was adjacent to Levi’s, the only one with an adjoining wall since Levi’s was on the end. Eren expected Hanji to knock, but she just barged in as if she belonged there, and Eren supposed she did. He, on the other hand, probably didn’t.

Still, he followed her example with a good deal more reluctance, politely closing the door behind him to keep the cold air out. 

From the outside there had been silence, but the inside of the townhouse was a din of loud voices and laughter and the pulse of music in the background. He saw Hanji flitting through the crowd and trailed after her, slipping through the clusters of people with his eyes on her back. 

He smelled alcohol and suddenly felt that he would really like a drink. 

But he would like to see Levi even more.

And in a moment he did. Hanji disappeared from his view, but a few people shifted and he could see into the kitchen, where an excited Hanji was greeting a small group of people loitering around the table of snacks. Levi was leaning against the counter, his elbows resting on the marble surface. He looked bored, as Hanji had advised. The man beside him was tall, and beside Levi he looked unacceptably so. He had his back turned, and before Eren could get a good look someone tripped and bumped into Eren, making him stumble a few steps forward. 

Eren turned to find a man whose shirt was now wet with the beer that had spilled out of his cup, stammering an apology with a slight blush burning behind his freckles. Familiarity spiked in Eren’s mind, and it took longer than it should have to place him. He supposed it was because he’d been completely hammered the last time he’d seen him. “Marco?” he asked, barely remembering the officer’s name. “Hey, you’re the one who took me home that one time, right?”

Marco blinked a few times, surprised. “Oh, yeah. Eren, right? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I need to go get cleaned up, I, uh… sorry.” 

He swept past Eren, slinking carefully around the other people there as if trying to avoid contact. Eren wondered what he was doing there and how he knew Levi’s neighbor. Again remembering Levi, Eren turned back toward the kitchen to find those familiar grey eyes staring directly at him. Eren tried to smile, but it fell flat as he registered the horrified expression on Levi’s face. At first Eren was hurt. Maybe Levi really didn’t want him there after all.

Then the man beside Levi turned, and Eren got a good look at his face. 

His breath caught in his throat and his stomach dropped somewhere around his ankles. 

He hadn’t met Levi’s neighbor, and he now realized that it had probably been intentional. Because he knew him already; all too well. 

Slowly, he turned and took a quick scan of the crowd. Now that he actually looked, he recognized almost all of them, from a time before he’d become a useless, alcohol-guzzling burden. 

He should have paid more attention to the police cars across the street. He should have asked more questions about the party before he’d allowed Hanji to drag him along.

He should have respected that Levi hadn’t invited him, because now he knew why. 

This was a party for the police department, and Levi’s neighbor was Police Chief Erwin Smith.


	26. Afterparty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, it doesn't end well, and this time I really am sorry.

Eren had known at some point that the chief’s name was Erwin, but it hadn’t registered when he’d heard Levi mention his neighbor’s name. When he'd been working for the PD he’d always thought of the man as a title, not as a name.

Now he was wishing that he’d done a little more critical thinking. 

Levi moved, probably to come toward him, but Eren didn’t wait to find out. He turned to flee, intent on escaping before anyone recognized him. This was his worst nightmare realized, where he could be ridiculed by an entire house full of people at one time. He could probably make it out unmolested as long as he didn’t run into—

“Eren fucking Jaeger.”

His path was suddenly blocked by the last person he’d wanted to see. Jean Kirschtein stood in front of him, one hand wrapped around a bottle. Judging from the glaze across his eyes and the way he smelled, he’d drunk a little more than he should have.

Eren’s breath hitched and he tried to sidestep him, only to have Jean slide in front of him, preventing his escape. 

“What the hell are you doing here? This is a police party, bitch. No fags allowed.”

“Get out of my way, Kirschtein,” spat Eren, trying to sound confident even though he felt like curling up in a ball in the corner. 

“Who invited you, anyway? We don’t associate with your kind. Did you sneak in? Think you could win your job back?”

“Jean, please,” said Eren, all too aware that several people had broken off their conversations to watch them. He expected them to jump in at any moment, to reinforce the stinging remarks that Jean had started practicing back before Eren had resigned. “Just move, I want to go home.”

There was movement across the room that Eren barely caught from the corner of his eye. He saw Mikasa’s face, touched by confusion.

He should have known this was coming. Mikasa had told him what kind of party she was going to. He should have put the pieces together and realized what he was walking into.

Now he was going to be humiliated in front of his sister. She’d seen him at his worst already; he didn’t want her to think any lower of him than she must already.

“Should’ve thought about that before you crawled in here, you little fag,” said Jean, reaching out with his free hand to shove at Eren’s shoulder. It wasn’t a heavy blow but Eren took a step back anyway, putting a little more distance between them. Jean had definitely had too much to drink. 

“Jean, come on,” said Eren, even more embarrassed to hear himself almost begging. He felt that assertiveness would have been the best way to go, but he couldn’t bring himself to channel that here, not when the humiliation was already creeping in, staining his face with a burning red flush. “Let’s at least go outside and talk about it, please.”

“Fuck you, Jaeger,” spat Jean, taking a teetering step closer. “Actually no, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? That’s probably why you’re here, you like being in a roomful of dicks, don’t you? It’s practically fucking paradise for you.”

Mikasa was moving now, the confusion breaking into a sizzling anger that Eren had rarely seen in her. She was stalking through the crowd, indiscriminately shouldering people out of her way, and Eren knew she was coming to his rescue, as usual.

This time, though, she didn’t have to.

Eren felt himself being pulled back by an iron grip on his arm and Levi placed himself between the two. “Kirschtein, you step the fuck back _now_ ,” he said, his tone low and rough. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” said Jean, the words blurring around the edges. “You’re not the boss of me, not anymore. Besides, if you’re going to defend this fucking faggot, then you can--”

Levi swung at him so fast that Eren couldn’t track the motion. Jean went down with the impact, dropping like a dead weight. He was out before he hit the floor, his mouth lolling open and his beer bottle skittering away in a spray of alcohol. Levi flexed his fingers once, expression unchanging. He turned to face Eren but he’d already dashed through the crowd, pushing his way through the front door and escaping. 

“Eren!” called Levi, stepping over Jean and following at a quick jog. He shoved through the door and caught sight of Eren weaving through the cars in the parking lot, running as well as he could manage in the close quarters. “Eren, wait!”

Eren’s steps faltered. He looked over his shoulder to see Levi approaching and tried to decide whether he should keep running or not. Before he made up his mind it was too late to do anything but try to swallow down his embarrassment while Levi looked him over.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” The single word broke. Eren turned away and rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. 

“It’s okay, Eren. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry what those idiots think.”

Suddenly Eren was struck with the irony of that, and all of Levi’s other advice. Jean had said they didn’t associate with _his kind_ , which meant…

“They don’t know about you, do they?” asked Eren, his voice thick. “All that stuff you told me about being okay with it and you’re just as far in the closet as I am.”

“It’s not the same,” said Levi. “I’m not ashamed of it, but there’s a difference in accepting yourself and broadcasting it to everyone you meet. I’m not exactly a vocal person. I don’t share. That doesn’t mean I’m ashamed.” 

He reached out and Eren took a step back before Levi could touch him.

The door of the townhouse swung open and Eren could see Mikasa framed against the interior glow.

“I’ll prove it,” said Levi. He narrowed the distance between them, though he didn’t again attempt to make physical contact. “Let’s go back in, I’ll tell all of them. I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend, and that I’m proud of it. I care a hell of a lot more about you than I’ll ever care about any of them.”

If Levi had said those words to him an hour before, Eren would have felt like the luckiest man alive. Now, though, the sentiment fell flat, crushed by the dark coils of pain and shame and humiliation that constricted his chest.

“Don’t bother,” said Eren, turning to walk away. “I’m going home.”

“Eren, stop. Just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I want to go home.”

“Then let me drive you. It’s too far to walk in the dark.”

“I can take care of myself,” Eren muttered, although the incident that had just happened suggested that maybe he couldn’t. “Just leave me alone.”

He expected Levi to continue protesting, but there was no response. He glanced over his shoulder without stopping to see Levi standing at the edge of the parking lot, something in his expression that Eren couldn’t quite pin down. It could have been irritation, or it could have been pain. 

Mikasa had jogged over and stalled beside Levi, and her face was all concern. They exchanged quiet murmurs that Eren couldn’t hear from that distance, and he realized he didn’t really care. Belatedly a third figure joined them, and beneath his hard shell of humiliation and bitterness Eren recognized Annie, who watched him with an expression strangely similar to Mikasa’s. 

He didn’t know why Annie would care. She was almost as bad as Jean.

The thought of Kirschtein made him grit his teeth and he picked up his pace, eager to put as much distance between himself and everyone else as possible. He didn’t like the way any of them looked at him. He didn’t like the ridicule or the pity, and he wasn’t sure which he despised more. 

Levi hadn’t invited him because of the circumstances, but there was something else too, something he wasn’t mentioning. As Mikasa had said, it was a work party, and Mike worked in the investigations division of the PD. Everyone there was an officer or someone affiliated with the police force. Eren doubted that being a probation officer qualified. Maybe Levi had been invited just because he was the chief’s friend and neighbor, but Eren didn’t think that was very likely.

Levi was keeping secrets.

Mikasa didn’t run after him, and Eren assumed it was only because Levi talked her out of it. In any other situation she would have been all over him, making sure he was okay, trying to patch him back up after he’d fallen apart. It was nice of her to be concerned, but it wouldn’t help. It never helped, no matter how many times she tried to build him back up.

Before Levi came along there was only one thing that had made him feel better about life. There was only one thing that had sealed the stinging gashes that had been left on the face of his self-image, only one thing that could wrap him up in a comforting embrace and make him feel less terrible about himself.

That thing had been his best friend, and even though he’d turned his back on his best friend, he knew it would still be waiting when he went crawling back.

Eren needed a drink.

Eren needed a lot of drinks.


	27. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys. I'm awestruck by the number of comments that were left on the last chapter. For the most part you all seem to be enjoying the fic and I'm absolutely thrilled! Thanks to all of you for leaving feedback, I love hearing how you feel about how the fic is progressing. You're all fantastic.

Jean had no idea what time it was when he woke up. He was aware only of a throbbing pain in his head, another sharper ache in his jaw, and the soft comfort of fluffy bedsheets that he immediately knew weren’t his.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but he forced himself to do it anyway. The ceiling was white, the light was too bright, and he gave up and turned his face into the pillow, groaning.

“It lives,” said a dry voice somewhere above him, a voice that was much too loud. “Come on, sunshine, suck it up. You asked for this.”

He was miserable, but not quite miserable enough to not bristle at the insult. Jean levered himself upright, his head pulsing in painful displeasure. Annie stood at the side of the bed with her arms crossed, her face arranged in a mask of supercilious disapproval. 

“The fuck is your problem?” he grumbled, the words sticking to his tongue and garbling. He swallowed and cleared his throat, trying not to gag at the disgusting taste of his mouth.

“I don’t have any. You’re the one with all the problems. Remember what happened?”

Jean did. Apparently one botched memory lapse was all he was going to get out of life. He cradled his head in his hands, blocking out the too-bright light. “Yeah,” he said, the single word muffled by his palms.

“You fucked up, Kirschtein,” said Annie. She sat on the bed and yanked his hands down, forcing Jean to look at her. “It’s been three hours and they still can’t find Eren. God knows where the poor kid ended up. You destroyed him in front of his sister and his boyfriend. Does that make you feel good about yourself, Jean?”

“Of course not,” he said, pulling away from her grip. “I was drunk.”

“You’re still drunk,” she said, “and that’s not the reason. You were sober all the other times you verbally attacked him. Of course, you never did that in public. Even you had the decency to only insult him in front of our shift, even though that was bad enough. You never felt the need to make a scene like this, especially since he was just trying to get out.”

“I don’t know why the fuck you care all of a sudden,” he snapped. Annie recoiled from his breath. “I remember you calling him while you were trolling for prostitutes, asking him which guys were his type so you could scoop him up a few.”

“I know.” Annie frowned and looked across the room, at the half-open doorway, before returning her attention to Jean. “I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t professional. Fuck, it wasn’t something a decent human being would do. I didn't know how much it was hurting him at the time. I’ll have to answer for that myself, but at least I won’t have to worry about calling him out as a faggot in front of an audience.”

“Well he is,” mumbled Jean, twisting the bedsheets in his grip. 

“I know what your problem is,” said Annie, “even if you won’t admit it. You want to hear it?”

“You’re probably wrong, but sure, go for it.”

He was still looking down and Annie seized his chin, forcing his gaze up to meet hers. His jaw ached from the contact and he remembered someone hitting him, but couldn’t quite recall who. That must have been when he’d passed out because it was all blurry.

“Your problem is Marco,” said Annie. Jean immediately tried to wrench away but her grip tightened, inhibiting him. “You’ve spent all this time fucking with Eren about being gay, and it was all fine because you weren’t. But now you’ve met Marco and it’s different. You like him, more than you should, and it’s really fucking with you. I don’t know what the two of you did, and even if you didn’t actually fuck him I know you did _something_ , and you can’t even bring yourself to think about it because that would be gay, right?”

Jean slapped at Annie’s hand and reclaimed control of his face, scowling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed, “but only because you can’t admit it. You like him, and instead of doing something about it you’re just going to push him farther and farther away until you can’t see him at all and hope that everything goes away. Well here’s some advice, Kirschtein. It won’t.”

“Stop talking, Annie. My head hurts.”

“I will when you start listening,” she said. “Marco sucks at being a cop, but he’s a great guy. Better than you would ever deserve, and somehow he still likes you. Maybe you’re too blinded by denial to see it, but I’m not. He likes you and he’s too shy to do anything about it, especially after that scene you just pulled with Jaeger. He’s probably scared to death.”

“He doesn’t like me,” said Jean, rolling his eyes and instantly regretting it. He winced at the pain that spiked through his skull. “He’s not gay.”

“Yeah, well you claim you’re not either and he’s still been in your bed.”

Jean wanted to keep arguing. He wanted to be angry and affronted, but he was just too exhausted. “Will you just leave me alone? Where the fuck am I, anyway?”

“The chief’s spare room,” said Annie. “He said you could sleep it off in here. We had to drag you up the stairs, but the carpet burn shouldn’t be too bad.”

Jean shifted, trying to find a less awkward position, and realized that his shoes were gone. He’d never considered Annie as the nurturing type, but apparently she’d cared enough to make him comfortable.

He sighed and wished he hadn’t woken up for another 48 hours. Maybe by then everything would have already been dealt with.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “For not leaving me on the floor.”

“Oh, I voted to toss you outside,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not the one you should be thanking.” She reached out and patted his head, and he knew it was meant to be condescending. Then Annie stood and left the room, not offering another word. 

Jean stared after her, confused, until another face peered into the room a couple of minutes later, more concern visible in his expression than Annie would ever be capable of showing.

“Oh,” said Jean as Marco slipped into the room with a hesitant smile. “Fuck.”

That made his smile falter. Marco stopped halfway between the door and the bed, waiting to see how Jean would react before he approached or retreated.

Jean really hoped he hadn’t been waiting outside the door. Even though Annie’s theory was ridiculous, he still didn’t want Marco to hear it.

“Hey, Marco,” said Jean, collapsing back onto the bed. He rolled onto his side and watched Marco move closer, still cautious, like a vigilant deer creeping through the underbrush. 

“Hey,” said Marco as he reached the side of the bed. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel like shit,” said Jean, the words slurred by the pillow pressing into half of his face. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” groaned Jean. “We’ve talked about that over and over. It’s not your fault, don’t apologize.”

Marco bit his lip and said nothing.

He just stood there, awkward, until Jean reached out and patted the edge of the bed. Obediently Marco sat, his weight compressing the mattress more noticeably than Annie’s had. 

For a moment they sat in silence. Marco was too afraid of saying the wrong thing, and Jean was hoping that Marco would so he’d have a reason to be angry at him again. “Thanks,” Jean finally said. “For bringing me up here. Annie said she wanted to throw me in the parking lot.”

“She might’ve mentioned it,” said Marco. “She was joking, though. I think. It’s hard to tell, but she seems to be pretty fond of you.”

“She hides it well. Raging bitch.” He realized Marco hadn’t accepted his thank you, so he tried again. “But seriously, thanks, Marco.”

Marco smiled again, but the expression was careful, reserved. “You’re welcome.”

Jean couldn’t help but remember the last time the two of them shared a bed. It was a bittersweet mixture of alcohol-fueled kissing and morning-after fury. Jean had apologized for that, but still he felt it hadn’t been enough. None of this was Marco’s fault, no matter how eager Jean was to blame someone else. 

“I’m sorry, Marco.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Marco, echoing Jean’s words. “It’s not your fault.”

Jean disagreed, but didn’t argue. He could practically hear Annie’s voice in his head, nagging at him. 

_He likes you and he’s too shy to do anything about it._

The thought made Jean feel guilty somehow, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t give a fuck if Marco liked him or not. Even if Marco did turn out to be gay he wouldn’t make fun of him the way he’d done to Eren, but that only meant he liked Marco more as a person. It didn’t reflect his own feelings.

Still, he found himself reaching out, resting his hand on top of Marco’s. 

“Really,” he said, suddenly insistent. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted that way. You’re a good person. You deserve better than that.”

Marco stared down at his hand, and Jean couldn’t quite read his expression.

“What about Eren?” he asked, slipping his hand away. “Are you sorry about that, too?”

Jean closed his eyes and tried to organize his thoughts. He’d sobered up significantly, but there was still enough alcohol in his system to make the process sluggish. “Marco, are you gay?”

The question left his lips before he’d really thought it through. He immediately wished he could take it back, but it hung in the air like a swinging noose.

Marco stared down at his hands. “I don’t know,” he said after a long stretch of silence. “If I say yes, are you going to treat me like you treated Eren?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Why not? It’s the same thing.”

“No it’s not,” said Jean, again pushing past his discomfort and sitting upright. “It’s not the same. You’re my friend, I wouldn’t care.”

“He was your friend too.”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

Jean tried to answer, but found he couldn’t come up with a proper response. Annie’s voice was still gnawing at the back of his mind and he struggled to ignore it. 

Even though Jean didn’t reply, Marco sighed and lowered his head. “I guess maybe I am,” he admitted quietly. He glanced at Jean from the corner of his eye. “Do you hate me?”

Jean shook his head, ignoring the dull throb that rewarded him for the gesture. “Of course not. I could never hate you.”

“But why? You hate Eren for the same reason. Like I said, it’s the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing,” said Jean, an edge in his voice. “It’s completely different.”

“I don’t see how.”

_You like him, more than you should, and it’s really fucking with you._

“Because I fucking like you,” said Jean, reiterating Annie’s words. “That’s the difference.”

“Well you liked him too,” said Marco, naïve to the implication. “He was your partner, and you’ve already said he was your friend, of course you liked him.”

“No,” said Jean, desperately wanting himself to stop but desperately wanting to continue. “I mean I _like_ you, Marco. I know I fucking shouldn’t, but I fucking do, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Slowly, Marco raised his head to look at Jean. For a long moment they exchanged a stare, one that made Jean regret he’d even mentioned it because now he felt it even more strongly, that sensation of heat and nerves and thirst that he should not be feeling while looking at a man. 

It was Marco who broke the gaze, shaking his head and staring down at his hands. “If you’re just saying that to make me feel better, please don’t.”

Jean pressed his fingers underneath Marco’s chin, lifting his face in a move that was bolder than he felt. When Marco was again looking at him, he said, “I’m not. I’m saying it because I mean it. Annie said you like me. Is that true or is she full of shit?”

Marco struggled to construct an intelligible response, but the flush that spread across his cheeks was a fairly clear answer.

Before he could stop himself, Jean leaned forward and kissed him. 

Embarrassment had heated his face, and Jean felt the warmth against his lips as they moved against Marco’s, fitting together even more perfectly than he’d remembered. When Jean pulled back he felt both pleased and mortified. He plopped back down into the pillow as an excuse to hide his face. He wanted to see Marco’s reaction, but couldn’t bring himself to reveal his own. 

“Was that for real?” asked Marco. “Or in the morning are you going to start whining about how it didn’t count because you were drunk?”

“I’m not that drunk,” said Jean, his voice muffled.

“Oh. Well, umm, good.”

Marco sounded as awkward as Jean felt. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” said Jean.

“Yeah, me either.”

Jean sighed and finally emerged from the concealing comfort of his pillow. “I guess this means I’m going to have to apologize to Jaeger.”

“For making him miserable or for being a hypocrite?”

“Fuck. Both, I guess.”

“You can do that later,” said Marco. “Just try to get a little more sleep. The chief said you could stay up here as long as you needed to, but he does want to have a talk with you about what happened.”

“Of course he does.” Jean groaned and rolled over, closer to the middle of the bed. He felt pathetic asking, but couldn’t stop himself. “Will you stay with me?”

Marco fumbled over his response before he said, quietly, “Sure, if you want me to.”

“Yeah, I really do.” 


	28. Recovery

While Eren was unconscious, he dreamed.

He dreamed he was in the middle of a canyon, great rock walls rising on all sides of him, an inescapable trap. He dreamed that wolves were emerging from the stone, surrounding him with hungry eyes and bared teeth. When he tilted his head back to look at the black sky, he saw vultures circling above him, waiting for the kill so they could peck at the scraps left behind.

He dreamed he was being torn apart piece by piece, and couldn’t bring himself to care.

When he finally woke up he couldn’t remember that he’d dreamed at all. He slowly sat up looked around with bleary eyes, trying to decide where he was. It was a small room with close walls, the only light coming from the closed, dust-covered blinds shielding the window on the far wall. That meant the sun was out, but it didn’t help him determine what time it was.

Or what day it was.

Or what the hell had happened to him last night.

He obviously had a hangover; the throb in his head and the churn of his stomach was enough evidence for that. Eren had suffered through a lot of hangovers, though, and something was different about this one. It wasn’t just his head that ached; it was everything. All of him hurt, and as he struggled to his feet, he pitched sideways and started puking in the middle of the floor, unable to hold it back.

He remained on his hands and knees for a few long minutes, panting. When he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and again struggled to stand, there was a warm trickle on his lips. He pressed a hand to his face and it came away bloody.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice a hoarse croak. He used his sleeve to staunch the blood streaming from his nose, hoping that it would pass quickly. 

It wasn’t until he staggered to the door and pushed his way through that he became aware of his location. He had been lying in the back room of the shady bar near his apartment, the room where all of the junkies gathered to do lines or shoot up or whatever the hell it was that junkies did.

“Oh fuck,” he said, feeling the first shreds of panic flaring in his chest. “Oh no. Oh fuck.”

He clumsily crossed the main room of the vacant bar and let himself out. The sun was so bright that he had to close his eyes, waiting for the flare of pain in his head to settle down before he cautiously squinted at the street. 

A few cars rolled by, and across the road several pedestrians strolled slowly, unhurried. They didn’t notice him, and he wanted to keep it that way. He paced the length of the storefront and stepped into the alley that cut between the bar and the shop next door. It was also empty except for a dumpster that appeared to have been recently emptied. That was fortunate, because Eren felt that if he’d caught a whiff of garbage he would’ve started spewing vomit again.

He pressed his back against the wall of the building and slumped to the ground, one hand still pressed against his nose. With the other he patted at his pockets, trying to find his phone. He did, but in the process realized that his wallet was gone.

He didn’t have the energy to be upset. Instead he flipped past the lock screen on his cell and stared blankly at the multiple missed calls and dozens of texts that he’d received sometime since the night before. It was just past noon. The last call had been half an hour before, from Mikasa.

Eren checked the other missed calls. Mikasa was responsible for most of them, and apparently someone had talked to Armin because he’d tried several times, too. The one name that Eren wanted to see wasn’t on the list; Levi hadn’t bothered to try and find him.

Deflated, he closed the screen started deleting the texts. He skimmed a couple of them, but didn’t bother to read them thoroughly. All of them were so similar that they might as well have been the same message. “Where are you?” “Are you okay?” “Call me NOW”. 

Then he reached the end of the list and stopped. The first message he’d received after he’d ran out of the party was from Levi, the only one he’d bothered to send.

_Call me when you want to talk._

Eren’s finger was poised over the screen, ready to delete the message, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Levi had given him space. Eren assumed that’s what normal people needed when they experienced a personal crisis. Apparently Levi hadn’t obsessively tried to track him down because he trusted him to work out his issues without destroying himself.

Beneath the aches and the nausea, Eren felt a stab of shame.

He leaned his head back against the wall, trying to think. Mikasa’s apartment wasn’t very far away, but he wasn’t positive that he could make it there without collapsing. It was the worst he’d felt in a long time, and that was making a statement. 

He would have to call someone. Levi was his first choice, but he still didn’t know what to say to him. He needed to wait until his head cleared; he didn’t want to say anything stupid. Mikasa would be there in minutes, and Eren knew she would do anything for him, but he didn’t really want to face her, not just then. Instead he called Armin, and his friend was so relieved to hear from him that Eren felt guilty all over again. He said he’d be right there, and Eren hunched over to wait, again reading Levi’s text and wondering what he was supposed to do about it.

  
  


A couple of hours later Eren was feeling much better, although he continued to burst into sporadic, unpredictable nosebleeds that had permanently ruined his shirt. After the most recent spell of bleeding had stopped, Armin gave Eren one of his own shirts to wear and promptly threw Eren’s bloody one in the trash. 

Armin had picked up Eren and brought him to his apartment. Eren hadn’t wanted Mikasa to know any details, but Armin had insisted on calling her just long enough to let her know Eren was safe. She’d insisted that she would come over, but Armin had managed to talk her out of it.

Now Eren was curled up on his friend’s couch, watching Armin flit around the small kitchen and pour each of them a share of the herbal tea he had just brewed. When the cup was pressed into Eren’s shaking hands, he was reminded of Levi drinking tea at the café downtown, the first time they’d gone out together, although it hadn’t been a date.

“Did you get in a fight?” asked Armin, tilting Eren’s head up to study the dark bruises beneath his eyes.

“Don’t know,” Eren mumbled, pulling away from his touch and taking a careful sip of the tea. “Don’t remember anything after I left the party.”

Frowning, Armin sat on the couch beside him. The two of them had exchanged only a handful of words since Armin had helped him into the apartment. Apparently the grace period of silence was over. “Annie called me as soon as it happened,” said Armin. “She said you were really upset, but Levi wouldn’t let her or Mikasa go after you. He said you needed time. I guess he doesn’t know you that well.”

The statement stung, but Eren knew that wasn’t Armin’s intention. It was the truth, to some degree. If Armin had seen him in that state of mind he never would have let him wander off on his own. Eren was still shocked that Mikasa had caved. He wondered what Levi had said to her that was so convincing.

“Guess not.”

“He should’ve gone after you,” said Armin, a small dose of heat in his words. “He’s supposed to be your boyfriend, right? He should’ve taken care of you.”

“He punched Jean in the face. I think that counts.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Eren sighed and took another small sip of tea before carefully sitting the cup on the coffee table. “I know what you mean. It’s not his fault, though. It’s mine.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is.” Eren knew it was, and he was ashamed. It wasn’t Levi’s fault that he hadn’t yet discovered just how unstable Eren was. If he’d known then Levi wouldn’t have bothered dating him in the first place. He would’ve avoided him just like everyone else did; just like everyone else should.

Eren had decided that Levi’s text hadn’t been a way of checking up on him after all. It had been a subtle hint that whatever they’d had between them was over. He was finished with Eren’s problems, and Eren didn’t blame him. 

“I shouldn’t do shit like this,” said Eren. “I know I shouldn’t. It’s stupid. I mean, I don’t even know what the fuck I did last night. I don’t remember anything, which is weird. Sometimes things will get hazy and I’ll lose an hour or two, but I don’t have _anything_. That’s about twelve hours gone. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

Armin touched Eren’s shoulder in what was meant to be a gesture of reassurance. “Now that you’re cleaned up you should try and get some rest. You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise.”

“I doubt that,” Eren muttered. “When I wake up I’ll have to figure out what I need to do about Levi. That’s definitely not going to make me feel better.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Well obviously I like him and I don’t want anything to change, but…” Eren trailed off and stared at the teacup in front of him, frowning. “Even if he does want to work things out, I think he hasn’t been honest with me about everything. I mean, he was there at the party with everyone else from the PD. He has the thin blue line sticker on his car. He said he’s not a cop, but… I don’t know if I believe him now.”

“Would it matter if he was?”

“Only because he didn’t tell me,” said Eren. “I wouldn’t care, but after I spilled my guts to him I would’ve expected him to be honest in return.”

“Annie knows,” said Armin quietly.

Eren looked at him, waiting.

“She told me,” said Armin, staring into his own untouched cup of tea, “about Levi. I know why he was there. I know the connection. Do you want me to tell you?”

Suddenly the knowledge was the only thing that Eren wanted in the entire world. He opened his mouth to say yes, of course he wanted to know, but then clamped it shut again.

He didn’t appreciate that a secret was being kept from him, but he wasn’t sure it was proper for him to be angry about it. After all, he’d kept a secret from almost everyone he’d ever known. Levi was an exception. Eren had always had a good reason for preserving his privacy, and maybe Levi did as well. He wanted desperately to know, but he felt it was only fair that Levi tell him personally. Surely he owed him that much.

“No,” Eren finally said. “I’ll ask him myself. I don’t want to go behind his back.”

Armin nodded, not pressing the issue. “I know you like him,” said Armin, “but Annie also told me how old Levi is. Are you sure that’s good for you, Eren? That’s, like, a twenty year difference.”

“Seventeen,” Eren corrected. “I don’t care about his age. That doesn’t bother me.” He reached for the cup again, and his fingers were shaking so severely that some of the tea almost sloshed out of the sides before he took a sip. “I’ll try to sleep for a few hours,” he said. “Then I’ll call Levi. I don’t know what will happen, but either way we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said this before, and I'm certain I'll say it again. Thank you all so much for the feedback you've given me on this fic. I love you all, and I mean it.


	29. Recompense

At six o’clock Armin dropped Eren off in front of Levi’s townhouse. It was drizzling a light, cold rain, and Eren watched the drops splat against the windshield for a moment, prolonging the time until he was forced to get out of the car.

“I can just take you home,” offered Armin, sensing his hesitation. “Mikasa said I should do that anyway. She doesn’t think you should spend any more time with Levi.”

“I’ve told her for months that she should break it off with Mike,” said Eren. “If she won’t listen to me, I’m sure as hell not listening to her.”

“I think they’re good for each other.”

“Maybe so, but I still don’t like him.”

Armin sighed, observing Eren with a frown. “You don’t like anyone she dates. You don’t think anyone is good enough for her.”

“They’re not.”

“She deserves to be happy, Eren.”

“I know, I know,” he said with a groan, leaning his head back against the seat and staring at the ceiling of the car. Whoever had owned the vehicle before Armin had been a smoker. There were tiny circular burns here and there, obviously intentional. “What if he doesn’t want to see me anymore?”

“Eren, he asked you to come over.”

“Yeah, but what if he just wants to tell me in person?”

“Then call me and I’ll come back and pick you up,” said Armin. “If you don’t want to go home you can stay with me. I don’t have much room, but we’ll make it work.”

“Is it bad?” asked Eren, jumping subjects so quickly that it took a moment for Armin to catch up. “The secret about Levi, the one Annie told you. Is it bad?”

Armin shrugged, but his forehead creased. “You won’t like it.”

Eren heaved another sigh and pushed open the car door. The only thing that he was accomplishing by procrastinating was making himself nervous. “Thanks for the ride, Armin.”

“Let me know how it goes later. Text me or something. And call me if you need anything, I can be back here in ten minutes to pick you up.”

“Alright, thanks, Armin. ‘Bye.” Eren shut the car door gently and shuffled up the stairs to Levi’s front door. He felt unbelievably better than he had that morning, but his brain still felt just a little clouded, like it was shrouded in a thin fog. He’d shed the nausea and most of the headache, though, so he could live with a little fog.

Before he could knock on the door it swung inward. He hesitated, surprised, before stepping inside. A bristly, rectangular rug served as the inner doormat and Eren scraped the bottoms of his shoes against it before slipping out of them and forging ahead in sock-clad feet. 

Levi shut the door behind him and led the way to the living room, silent. Eren hovered awkwardly until Levi gestured for him to have a seat on the couch. He did so obediently, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, his chin resting on his knees. Levi sat in one of the chairs beside the couch and Eren felt a surge of disappointment. He remembered the last time they’d been on the couch together. He hadn’t expected that to happen now, but he wasn’t able to completely suppress the desire.

“I guess we have some shit to talk about,” said Levi. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, studying Eren with cool grey eyes. “You want to go first or should I?”

“Umm…” Eren fumbled for words. He hadn’t expected the conversation to start off like that. He knew Levi was blunt, but typically these sorts of discussions were crafted more delicately. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“Fine,” said Levi, unbothered. “I’ll start.”

He stood and paced across the room, staring straight ahead rather than looking at Eren. He paused in front of the far wall for a long moment, and Eren assumed he was collecting his thoughts. Then, without warning, he turned on his heel to face the couch and started talking.

“I assume it’s obvious why I didn’t invite you to Erwin’s party, right?”

Eren nodded, a little thrown by Levi’s sudden intensity. His posture was stiff, his brows lowered sharply over narrow eyes. 

“If Hanji hadn’t stuck her damn nose where it didn’t belong it wouldn’t have been a problem. She didn’t know any better, though, since I didn’t tell anyone about your police background. If she had she never would’ve brought you. She’s sorry, by the way. She groveled at my feet all night long apologizing.”

Eren hadn’t even thought about Hanji’s role in the incident. Levi sounded irritated, but Eren hadn’t even considered blaming Hanji for anything. “It’s not her fault,” he said. “She just wanted to include me.”

Levi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. He was visibly flustered for the first time since Eren had met him, and he wasn’t quite sure how to react to this side of Levi. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing and making the situation worse, so he just sat quietly and waited for him to continue.

“Maybe I should’ve told you about Erwin,” he finally said, dropping his hand and opening his eyes to resume his observation of Eren. “That would have prevented everything. Still, if I told you about him and you asked how we knew each other, it would have been a lie to tell you we’re just neighbors.”

Eren sat up a little straighter. This was the part that he was waiting for, the secret that he’d told Armin to keep to himself. His best guess was that Levi was working undercover, and that was in such a remote division that it was plausible that Eren could have worked at the PD without having met him. 

“So you are a cop,” said Eren, the words spilling out before Levi could elaborate. 

“Goddammit, Eren, I’ve told you more than once I’m not a fucking cop.” The response was too angry, too bitter. Eren realized Levi was getting defensive, another thing he’d never expected the older man to do. Levi sighed and tried to shake some of the tenseness out of his limbs. He then said, quietly, “Not anymore.”

Before Eren could seize the implication Levi continued.

“I used to be. It’s been about five years since I quit. I was the captain of Shift 1 for years. When I first started out Erwin and I were partners, so we know each other pretty well. He became chief shortly before I left.”

Eren stared. He mentally tried to wrap Levi in a police uniform and just couldn’t do it. He remembered the things Levi had said about the police when they’d talked about them before, all of it negative. Eren just couldn’t understand how he could have such a pessimistic view of something he’d worked so hard to obtain. No one just became a captain overnight. It took years of work and effort and exceptional capabilities.

More pressing, though, was that Levi had simply thrown all of that away. If Eren ever had the opportunity to have a leadership position, even if it was just a lieutenant or sergeant, he would never let that go. 

“Why did you quit?” he asked, aware that it had taken him a little too long to respond. 

Levi forced a smile but the expression was bitter, not a trace of humor on his face. “Because police work isn’t all it’s cut out to be, kid. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Levi’s eyebrows went up. “What?”

“I said I don’t believe you,” repeated Eren. “If you were captain you wouldn’t have just given that up because you were jaded. There had to be a reason, a good one. Why?”

So much time passed that Eren was certain he wasn’t going to answer. While the quiet dragged on Levi didn’t look away, and Eren found himself fidgeting beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look, kid,” he finally said. Eren couldn’t make himself take offense to the statement. “Something did happen. Something that showed me how fucking stupid I was to have done the job that long. Something that made me realize I was wasting my damn time.”

“What was it?”

“I know we’re having a moment here,” said Levi, and Eren couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or serious, “but we’re not going into that right now.”

“But--”

“Eren,” he snapped, clipping the sentence short. “Not now.”

“But Levi, I--”

Levi crossed the room in a few quick strides and planted his hands on the back of the couch, on either side of Eren’s head, and leaned forward so that he was on eye level. 

Whatever argument Eren had been piecing together died in his throat.

“I’m asking you,” said Levi quietly, “to not make me talk about it. It was five years ago, but I’m still not ready to go into it. I might never be. Can you respect that?”

Eren found himself pinned in place by Levi’s gaze, like a butterfly pinned by its wings in a glass case. He swallowed, hard, and managed to choke out a weak, “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

Levi relented and retreated a couple of steps, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry. I brought you here to tell you things, that’s just not one of them.”

Eren really didn’t know how to respond to that. He was dying to know what could have possibly scarred someone as strong and stoic as Levi, but he knew he wouldn’t press for the information, either. He knew what it was like to have a secret that was absolutely breaking you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked instead. “I asked you if you were a cop and you just said no every time. I even asked why you had that sticker on your car, even though I guess I know that now. Why didn’t you ever just say you used to work for the PD?”

“As badly as you reacted to the police, I didn’t really want that animosity to include me.” Levi shrugged, but Eren could tell he was troubled. “Maybe I should’ve told you. Fuck, I know I should have. But after you told me about everything that happened I just couldn’t. I thought you might hate me too, by extension. I was afraid.”

It was a strong admission from Levi, and Eren respected it. The fact that Levi had kept if from him crawled beneath his skin like a swarm of ants, but he couldn’t be as angry as he would have liked. He remembered how he’d reacted to the mere mention of the police when he’d first met Levi. It had been with sheer hostility. It was really no wonder that Levi had been concerned about revealing the truth. “I wouldn’t have hated you,” he said. “I don’t think I could hate you if I tried.”

“Even after all that’s happened?” said Levi, skeptical. “Did you forget the part where you were pissed at me for not telling everyone I liked guys? Because I remember it.”

“No, I remember,” said Eren, curling his arms around his knees more tightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business. I mean, I’ve told, like, five people total that I’m gay. I don’t have any right to judge you for the same thing.”

He dropped his eyes, unable to hold Levi’s stare any longer. He heard the sigh from across the room, and felt the couch cushions compress as Levi sat beside him. 

“You were right, though. But I was being serious about not being ashamed of you. I would’ve walked right back in with you on my arm and dared anyone to say a damn thing about it.”

Eren peered up at him and found that his expression was intense, unyielding. He was being serious. “You heard how they feel about me,” said Eren. “They would think the same about you.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I care more about you than them. I’d rather a thousand people hate me than ever disappoint you.”

“But why?” asked Eren, unable to see the logic in the statement. “Why do you even care? I mean, I don’t mean anything. You’ve only known me for a month. I don’t have a job or my own place or--”

“Or any self-confidence,” said Levi. “I know. It doesn’t matter. I like you the way you are.”

Eren hid his face in his knees, unsure of how to respond to that. Levi sounded serious, but he wasn’t certain how he could be. 

“So I think I’m finished,” said Levi. “How mad are you that I kept the captain thing a secret?”

Eren shook his head before looking up again. “I’m not. I mean, I would’ve liked it if you’d told me before. It would’ve saved me a lot of trouble, but… no, I’m not mad. Besides, you punched Jean Kirschtein in the face. That about makes up for it.”

Levi’s mouth twitched with a genuine smile. “It was pretty satisfying.” As quickly as it happened it faded and Levi was again solemn. “Alright, your turn. Where the hell did you go last night?”

Eren had expected Levi’s confession to be the worst part of the conversation. From the way Armin had referred to the secret, he’d expected worse. It was still discomfiting, but he found he could live with it if it meant holding onto Levi a little longer. 

After all, when Levi said he wasn’t a cop, he hadn’t _technically_ lied.

But now that Levi’s turn to talk was over, Eren realized that what he had to say was inescapably worse. 

“Oh, uh… I just had to get away for a while. Be by myself, you know?”

“Uh huh,” said Levi. “Now tell me the truth.”

Eren breathed in deeply, wanting nothing more than to shove the subject under the rug and never speak of it again. Since Levi had been so open with him – for the most part – he forced himself to speak.

“Well, from what I can remember, I went to a bar,” he said, not meeting Levi’s eyes. “I guess I got drunk, I don’t really know.” His face felt warm, and he blamed his embarrassment. “Apparently I had a lot, because it was this really sleazy bar. And I woke up in the back room in the floor, and it was disgusting, and I--”

“Eren,” said Levi sharply, cutting him off. At first Eren though he was just offended because Eren had passed out in a filthy floor, but then Levi was on his feet, dashing for the kitchen. 

Eren didn’t realize what was wrong until the blood trickled between his lips and he tasted the metallic bite on his tongue. Before he could wipe it off on Armin’s shirt, Levi had returned with a wad of paper towels and pressed them firmly against Eren’s nose, soaking up the blood.

“What the hell, Eren?” asked Levi, forcibly tilting Eren’s head back to try and slow the bleeding. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, it’s been happening all day.” Eren leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “Maybe I got hit in the nose or something.”

Levi pulled the bloody paper towels away and eyed Eren’s face. “Doesn’t look like it,” he said, pausing to press the pad of his finger against the bridge of Eren’s nose before having to staunch another trickle of blood. “I don’t see any external damage.” His expression hardened, brows pinching together. “I’ve seen these types of nosebleeds before, though. Mostly from junkies who’ve just snorted a line or two.”

Eren shook his head slightly. “I don’t know what it is, then. It’s not like I’ve been snorting…” his voice trailed off slowly, tapering into silence. He thought of the too-intense headache he’d woken up to, the uncharacteristic memory loss that he’d experienced, the sketchy environment that he’d apparently spent the night in. 

He sat up suddenly, inhaling so sharply that he again tasted blood on the back of his tongue as a stream filtered down his throat. 

“Oh fuck,” he said, reaching up to hold the paper towels in place as Levi backed away from the sudden movement. “Oh, shit. What if I… I can’t remember if… Fuck, Levi, what if I did?”

“I think you’d know if you had.”

“But I don’t,” Eren insisted. “I don’t remember anything that happened after I left the chief’s house. That doesn’t happen to me, when I’m wasted I usually remember flashes, at least. I don’t have anything from last night. What if I snorted something? What if I did coke or meth or some shit like that?”

“I doubt that,” Levi said with a shrug. “If anything it was probably heroin. It’s making a comeback.”

“What?” Eren was on his feet then, eyes blown wide in panic. “You can snort heroin? I thought that was just a needle thing!”

“You can snort pretty much anything,” said Levi, stepping forward to grip Eren’s shoulder and coaxing him back onto the couch. “You don’t have much drug experience, huh?”

“Of course not! Why would I? I don’t do drugs, I wanted to be a fucking cop!”

“Yeah, well, some of them don’t give a fuck. They do all kinds of shit anyway.”

“What if I did?” asked Eren, desperate. “What if I snorted heroin? What does that mean?”

“It means you need to stop getting drunk because you’re going to make stupid decisions, idiot.” Levi pried the paper towels away from Eren’s face. There was still blood smeared on his upper lip, but the bleeding had stopped. Levi carried the trash into the kitchen and sequestered it in a paper bag before throwing it away. When he returned to the living room Eren was peeling up his sleeves. “Are you looking for track marks?”

Eren didn’t answer. He yanked his left sleeve back down and pushed up the right one, examining the inside of his elbow. “Oh shit! That’s—oh, a freckle. Nevermind.”

Levi rolled his eyes and sat, casually flinging an arm across Eren’s shoulders. “Just calm down, kid. You’re fine.”

“But what if I--”

“I said it’s fine. Getting high one time isn’t going to kill you. You think there’s never been anything floating around in my system?”

“But it’s illegal,” Eren pressed, compulsively pressing the heel of his hand against his face to make sure the bleeding hadn’t started back up. “There might be something illegal in me. It makes me sick just thinking about it.”

“Want me to run by the office and get a drug screen?” asked Levi. “Then we’ll know for sure.”

Eren’s eyes lit up. Before he could accept the offer, Levi shut him down.

“I was kidding,” he said. “Jesus, kid. Stop worrying about it. It’s not a big deal. Well, the heroin isn’t, but the fact that you went and tried to destroy yourself is.” He withdrew his arm and shifted to face Eren, his expression stern. “You can’t do that to yourself anymore,” he said. “Not ever. I know you’ve had a hard time with this shit, but that’s over now. I’m here for you, so you don’t need alcohol or what-the-fuck-ever to get you through anything.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Eren, dropping his eyes. “I just--”

“You just _nothing_.” Levi hooked a finger under Eren’s chin and forced his gaze back up. “If you want to go back to that then whatever, that’s your own problem. But if you want to be here, and be with me, you have to stop. I’ve seen people fall apart before. I know what it looks like. I don’t let myself get attached to people who are on the fast track to fucking up because I’m not hopping on that train with you. You can either keep doing that shit or be my boyfriend, choose whichever you want.”

Eren blinked, aware that Levi hadn’t withdrawn his hand. It was still cupping Eren’s jaw, his fingers cool against warm flesh. “You still want to be my boyfriend?”

Levi shrugged one shoulder. “If you want me to be. I don’t see why not.”

“So even after last night…”

“I told you, just stop getting caught up in that shit. You’re better than that, Eren. You know you are. Act like it.” He sighed and trailed his hand along Eren’s face, threading his fingers through thick brown hair. “I should’ve gone after you, or at least let your sister chase you down. I about had to tie her the fuck down to stop her from running after you. I thought you just needed a few minutes alone, but I guess I was wrong. I don’t know you as well as I think I do.”

“That’s okay,” said Eren, his voice so low that it was almost a whisper. “You can still learn.”

Levi leaned forward, his lips hovering an inch away from Eren’s. “Teach me then, brat.”

Eren’s stomach lurched, but this time it wasn’t from nausea. He pushed his mouth against Levi’s, relishing in the sensation of intimacy, in the warmth of the man beside him, in the relief that he could still claim Levi as his. An image flashed across his mind of Levi as a police captain, a pair of handcuffs dangling from his fingers, a smirk twisting his face. 

Eren knew that just a kiss wasn’t going to be enough this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this fic is going to change next chapter, so we all know what that means... ^^


	30. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The rating has changed.**
> 
> If you're not into scenes of a sexual nature then skip this chapter, the next one will be safe to read. 
> 
> If you have already reserved your VIP seating in hell like I have, then please enjoy. ^^

Eren ended up flat on his back again. He was starting to see a pattern, but was by no means willing to break it.

Levi broke the kiss and trailed his lips across Eren’s jawline and down his neck. Eren writhed beneath the sensation of tongue and teeth scraping across his skin, making his breath hitch in his throat. He grabbed a handful of Levi’s hair and tugged, forcing Levi to raise his head so Eren could kiss him again. 

This time Eren was wholly aware of what he was doing, so it came as a surprise when he tried to slide Levi’s shirt off and was immediately stopped.

Levi’s grip was tight around Eren’s wrist as he levered himself away, sitting with his knees on either side of Eren’s hips. 

“We’re not doing this today,” he said calmly. Even though his composure was perfect, Eren could still see the heat burning in his eyes, reflecting the same heady lust that he felt himself.

“I want to,” said Eren firmly, certainly. “I really want to.”

“Of course you do. You’re the most impulsive person I’ve ever met.” He released Eren’s hand and pulled the hem of his shirt back down, covering the slice of stomach that peeked beneath. “You want to now, but then you’ll wake up in the morning and think, ‘oh shit, what the fuck was I thinking?’”

“That’s not true!”

“Stop whining. You know it is.” Levi ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. “It’s exactly what you did last night, isn’t it? I’m sure snorting a line seemed like something you wanted to do at the time.”

Eren’s face crumpled. He tried to worm his way from underneath Levi but the man’s weight pinned him down. 

“Wait, I shouldn’t have said that.” Obligingly, Levi shifted and allowed Eren to sit up. “I just don’t want you to do anything you regret. Once it happens you can’t take it back.”

"I know,” mumbled Eren. “I’m not stupid.”

“Just impulsive,” repeated Levi. He watched Eren pout for a long moment before he gave in. “Fine. Let’s make a compromise.”

Before Eren could ask him to elaborate Levi had already slid to the floor, on his knees in front of Eren. He popped the button on Eren’s jeans and had the zipper down before Eren could react.

“No-what-wait,” said Eren, the words overlapping into a jumbled outburst. He grabbed Levi’s hands and impeded his progress, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to suck your dick, what the fuck does it look like?”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Eren’s mouth opened but he couldn’t produce an argument.

Gently, Levi pried himself out of Eren’s grip and went back to work. He roughly yanked Eren’s jeans halfway down his hips. As he slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, Eren breathed in so sharply that Levi hesitated.

“I thought you wanted to do this.”

“I do,” said Eren quickly. “But it’s just… I… I’ve never done this before.”

“Sure you have,” said Levi. “You’ve had sex before. Girls have sucked you off before. It’s the same thing, remember? You said sex is sex.”

“I know, but this is different!”

“How?”

“Because… fuck.” Eren buried his face in his hands. “Because all the other times it was just about getting off. I didn’t care about any of the girls, not like that. This is just different.”

“So it’s not just sex?” pressed Levi. “It’s not the same thing?”

“No. It’s not.”

“Told you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Eren balked at the challenge, his competitive nature flattened by the heavy hammering of his heart.

Levi still had a hand on his stomach when he said, “We’ll do what you want to do, kid. You want me to or not?”

“Stop calling me kid.”

“You are a kid to me. I’m old, remember? Don’t change the subject.”

Eren bit down on his lip, wondering if Levi could see how painfully hard his erection was. It was only a few inches away from Levi’s hand, begging for attention. He nodded before he realized he was agreeing, his body answering before his mind could catch up. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want you to do it.”

“Okay then.”

Despite the admission Levi moved slowly, as if giving Eren a chance to change his mind. He trailed his fingers over the bristly hair on Eren’s stomach, edging along the top of his boxers. When he tucked his fingers beneath the elastic band, Eren’s entire body went rigid. Since he didn’t protest, though, Levi didn’t stop. He slid his hand down until his fingers brushed against the hard length of Eren’s cock. Eren spasmed from the sensation, grabbing double handfuls of couch cushions and clenching his jaw as Levi yanked down his boxers and his erection sprung free. 

Still moving slowly, Levi wrapped his hand around Eren’s length and stroked it, the corner of his mouth curving upward. Before Eren had completely reconciled himself to the sensation he felt the heat of hot breath, followed immediately by the wet feeling of Levi’s tongue sliding over the head. 

“Oh fuck,” Eren hissed through gritted teeth, leaning his head against the back of the couch and clenching his eyes shut. Automatically he loosened one of his hands and placed it on the back of Levi’s head, slipping his fingers through strands of black hair. 

Levi trailed his tongue down to the base, then licked along the underside of his cock. When he again reached the tip he closed his lips around it, sliding it into his mouth at an agonizingly slow pace. Eren squirmed beneath him, making small whining sounds as Levi’s tongue slid across skin. When Levi stopped, his nose was brushing curls of hair, narrowed eyes slanting up to find that Eren was finally looking at him. Small slices of teal ringed his enlarged pupils and a lovely flush stained his cheeks. His mouth was open, fast breaths gusting in and out in the same rhythm as the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

Levi slid back and paused at the tip before taking the length again, quickly. Eren made a sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp, his hand clenching so tightly in Levi’s hair that he may have yanked out some of the strands. He was too far gone to care, and Levi couldn’t bring himself to expend much concern.

Levi kept his tongue pressed against the underside of Eren’s length as he bobbed his head, sliding up and down, occasionally pausing to lick the tip and make Eren moan. After a few minutes Eren’s hips started moving of their own volition, pulsing in shallow thrusts, and Levi pulled away, a string of saliva stretching beneath his mouth and Eren’s cock.

“Everything okay, brat?” he asked, his smirk wicked. “If you’re uncomfortable and you want me to stop…”

“No,” panted Eren, frantically shaking his head. “No, don’t… don’t stop.”

“You sure? If you’re not enjoying it--”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Eren, more of a whine than a command. 

Levi chuckled shallowly and again took Eren into his mouth. This time he was no longer teasing. He hollowed his cheeks and pulled at Eren’s cock more eagerly, earning a long, needy moan from Eren’s throat. The sound was deep, husky with lust, and it made Levi’s cock twitch in its tight prison of black slacks. 

“Fuck,” breathed Eren, the word strained, shallow. “Fuck, I’m… I’m… fuck!”

The attempted warning fell flat as Eren threw his head back and let himself go, the tingling heat spreading through his body like wildfire. It took a moment for him to float back down, but when he did he realized that he still had a death grip on Levi’s hair, preventing him from withdrawing. Levi was simply staring up at him, one eyebrow raised, waiting.

“Oh shit,” said Eren, pulling his hand back as if he’d been burned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

Levi sat back and eyed him with that sharp-edged smirk. “You’re fucking adorable.”

If Eren had been capable of blushing anymore, he would have. Instead he busied himself with rearranging his clothing and zipping up his pants as Levi stood and wandered into the bathroom. 

Eren remained in place for a moment, drained and relieved and tense all at once. When Levi didn’t immediately return he stood and shuffled to the door of the bathroom, which Levi had left cracked open. He peered through the gap to find Levi standing in front of the sink, swishing mouthwash. 

Eren couldn’t help it; he laughed. 

Levi turned to glare at him, face misshapen by the mouthful of Listerine. He spat into the sink and wiped his mouth with a towel before barging back into the living room. “What’s so funny?”

Eren shook his head, biting off the laughter but unable to completely suffocate the smile that tilted his mouth. “Nothing. Nothing’s funny.”

“Apparently something is.” His glare softened as he studied Eren’s expression, one that was foreign to him. “I think that’s the second time I’ve heard you laugh since I met you.”

That wiped away the rest of his humor. Eren shrugged, his eyes dropping to the floor. 

“I didn’t mean stop,” said Levi, stepping forward and brushing his fingers over Eren’s cheek. “It’s nice. You look different when you’re happy.”

That close, Eren could smell the mouthwash, but didn’t find it unpleasant. It was a clean scent, clean like Levi. “I guess I just haven’t had a lot to be happy about lately.”

“We’ll have to change that.”

Eren tried to smile again, but this time it was forced and the attempt fell flat. Instead he said, “You already have. I’ll return the favor.”

He nudged Levi back until he was against the wall, then lowered himself to his knees. His fingers fumbled with Levi’s belt for only a moment before he was stopped.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Levi, wrapping his hands around Eren’s to prevent him. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

“Then surprise,” said Eren. “You’re getting it anyway.”

He freed his hands and Levi let him. Clumsily he worked Levi’s belt open and was struggling with the button on his slacks when Levi took pity on him. He popped the button open himself and allowed Eren to slide down the zipper. Eren yanked down the pants and they pooled around Levi’s ankles. Underneath Levi wore boxer briefs that tightly hugged his muscled thighs. Slowly, Eren curled his fingers beneath the band and inched them down until Levi’s half-hard cock was revealed. Eren stared at it for a moment, swallowed, then took it into his mouth.

He was a little awkward and a little clumsy, but Levi didn’t mind. He pressed one palm against the wall and rested one hand on the side of Eren’s head, gently, unwilling to pressure him. Unlike Eren, Levi didn’t look away as Eren moved back and forth, pulling and licking and sucking. 

When Eren started to become more comfortable he tilted his head a little and looked up at Levi, and the greed in his eyes made Levi suck in a breath. “Fuck,” he hissed, curling his hand into a fist in the midst of Eren’s mess of hair. “You have about fifteen seconds to stop.”

Eren shook his head, mouth still wrapped around Levi’s cock. He kept going and Levi bit down on a groan, eyes squeezing shut for a split second before he forced them back open. “I’m serious.”

“So’m I.” 

Eren’s words were muffled by a mouthful of cock and the sound and sensation sent Levi pitching over the edge. He jaw clenched as he came, defined muscles going taut as pleasure rippled through him. 

Eren waited until he was finished before he pulled away. He tried to swallow, nearly choked, and ended up spitting into his cupped hand. He looked up at Levi with watery eyes, expecting disgust or at least disapproval. What he got instead was perhaps the most genuine smile that he’d ever seen on Levi’s face. It was still just a twitch of his lips, but compared to his typically impassive expression it was a drastic change. 

“Get up, brat,” said Levi, fitting himself back into his underwear and pulling up his slacks. “Go wash your hands and get some mouthwash.” 

Eren did as he was told, scrubbing the cum away from his palms and swirling a mouthful of Listerine that made his eyes gather even more moisture. Levi leaned against the doorway and watched him.

“Sorry,” said Eren when he finally spat, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not easy to get used to. But I’m not completely sure that was really the first time you’ve had a dick in your mouth.”

“Of course it was.”

“Then you’re pretty good, considering.”

Eren met his eyes in the mirror and said, “I watch a lot of porn.”


	31. Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... I completely forgot to do an update on Tuesday. My bad.
> 
> I'll try to do better. I still love you all.

“I don’t want to do this,” grumbled Jean. He sat with his arms crossed, scowling out the window of Marco’s S10.

“I know,” said Marco, unbothered by Jean’s foul mood. “You don’t have to.”

“Of course I do,” Jean scoffed, rolling his head to the side to watch Marco drive. “After the reaming that chief gave me I don’t have much of a choice.”

“You shouldn’t do it because he’s making you,” said Marco. “You should do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Marco parked in the lot of the bar. When they got out, Jean elected not to mention the awkward angle of the truck, technically inside the parallel lines but decidedly slanted sideways. During training, Marco had experienced a similar problem parking the Charger. Jean had eventually stopped mentioning that, too, when it became apparent that it wasn’t going to improve.

“How’s it going with Reiner?” asked Jean, hovering outside the door of the bar. It was around forty degrees, not nearly as cold as it had recently been, so he didn’t feel rushed to go inside. 

“It’s okay.” Marco said it with a smile Jean knew wasn’t genuine. He continued to stare, eyebrows raised, until Marco’s expression faltered and he sighed. “Not great. He yelled at me about six times today.”

“For what?” asked Jean, although he already knew. Reiner had told him before they’d left the PD, affronted that Jean had allowed Marco to stay so long without sending him home; permanently. 

“Just stuff,” mumbled Marco. He took the cue from Jean and leaned against the building, hands in his pockets. “Apparently I screw up everything.”

“Everybody does that at first. You just need more experience.”

Marco looked up at him, flatly. “I’m hopeless, Jean.”

“Shut up, you’re not hopeless.” He dug a Skoal can out of his back pocket and twisted it open, wedging a pinch of tobacco inside his lower lip. “We can practice, if you want. On days that we’re not working.”

Marco watched him slip the tin back into his pocket, trying not to look disgusted. “I really don’t think that’ll help.”

“It won’t if you think it won’t. The job is all about confidence. If you think you can do it then you can.”

Marco groaned. “Great. Then I really am hopeless.”

“Just stop. I thought you were an optimist, Bodt. Where’s that rainbows-and-sunshine attitude?”

“Reiner stomped on it.”

“He’s trying to help,” said Jean. “He’s just abrasive. He was in the fucking Marines for a few years. It taught him to act like that.”

“He says I don’t stand the right way,” said Marco, frowning. “If I can’t even stand right then I don’t know how I’m going to do anything else right.”

“Again, confidence,” said Jean, stressing the word. “You have to stand tall. Act like you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t. We’re the fucking police. We can’t go and act unsure of something. If we do then we won’t get any respect.”

“Confidence.” Marco repeated the word and looked at Jean. “Then you should stop stalling and show some confidence. Go on, I can see him through the window.” 

Jean rolled his eyes and spat onto the pavement. “Fine. But you’re going home with me afterwards. Deal?”

Marco flushed beneath a spray of freckles. “Yeah, okay. Deal.”

Pushing himself away from the wall, Jean straightened his coat and strode to the door, shoving his way inside before he could change his mind. It was Monday night so the crowd inside was relatively light. It took only a second to spot Eren Jaeger sitting at the bar, chatting with the redheaded bartender, flanked by ex-captain Levi.

He felt Marco standing behind him, waiting.

“Maybe I’ll do it later, when Levi’s not with him,” said Jean. He started to take a step back but Marco’s hand dropped onto his shoulder and he stopped. 

“You need to talk to him, too,” said Marco. “Come on, just do it fast and get it over with. Like ripping off a band aid.”

Jean scoffed at the analogy but started forward, crossing the room with a gait that was a little less bold than his typical swagger. 

Eren didn’t notice the approach until Jean claimed the barstool beside him, staring straight ahead. From the corner of his eye he saw Eren flinch, startled. 

“Calm the fuck down, Jaeger,” he snapped. “I’m just sitting here. Get over yourself.”

Marco nudged him with an elbow and Jean sighed. When he spoke again, he tried to tone down the edge in his voice. “I need to say something to you.”

“Well I don’t want to talk to you,” mumbled Eren. He scooted as far away from Jean as he could manage without falling off of the stool, crowding into Levi’s personal space. “Get away from me.”

“Hi, Eren!” said Marco, leaning across Jean to smile at him. 

“Oh, umm, hi,” said Eren, thrown off by Marco’s presence. 

“Just let him talk,” said Levi, leaning to the side to give Eren more room. “Look how fidgety he is.”

“I’m not fidgety!”

“That’s a nice looking bruise you have there,” said Levi, running a thumb along his own jaw line while eyeing Jean’s. “Get in a fight?”

“Ooh, tension,” said Petra, looking back and forth between them as if watching a tennis match. “I’m going to step over there for a minute, the testosterone is suffocating. Can I get you guys anything?”

Marco shook his head, but Jean said, “An empty bottle if you can find one.”

When Petra trotted away it was Eren who broke the strained silence.

“Say whatever and leave us alone.”

“‘Us?’” repeated Jean. “What, are you guys buddies now? Since he hit me you figure you’ve found a new best friend?”

“Eren is my boyfriend,” said Levi, taking a calm sip of his beer as Jean’s mouth fell open. “Would you like to comment, Kirschtein?”

It took Jean a moment to pick his jaw up and give an intelligible response. “No, captain. Shit, I mean Levi. I didn’t know you were… well, you know. Gay.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “I never felt the need to share. Especially not with you.” He looked pointedly at Eren, one eyebrow raised. 

“Right, right.” Jean rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly finding the surface of the bar more interesting than the guarded expression on Eren’s face. “Sorry about the other night, Jaeger. I was drunk and pissed off, which isn’t really an excuse.” Marco prodded him in the ribs and he continued. “Sorry about all the other shit, too. I was a dick. You told me something in confidence and I used it against you when we were supposed to be friends. That wasn’t cool.”

“It wasn’t cool?” repeated Eren. “It _wasn’t cool_? Dude, you fucked up my entire life! You think a shitty apology like that is going to fix anything?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” snapped Jean. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry, shut up and let me finish.”

“Stop, Jean, this isn’t about you!” said Marco, shaking his shoulder lightly. 

“I know, I know.” He swatted at Marco’s hand and returned his attention to Eren. “I know it’s not going to fix anything. It was all really shitty of me and I shouldn’t have done it. I really wish I hadn’t. You were good at the job and you’re a decent guy and I shouldn’t have called you out at the party.”

“Then why did you?” challenged Eren, his eyes narrowing. 

“Because I have a thing about gay people,” said Jean, lowering his voice. “I always have, and when you told me you were my reaction was automatic.”

“A thing? What kind of shitty excuse is that?”

Petra carefully placed the empty bottle on the bar before slowly backing away and tending to the other customers, sparing frequent glances for the small group.

Jean continued to glare at him for a long moment, jaw clenched. Then he breathed out a deep sigh and grabbed the empty bottle on the counter, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the rim. 

“Do you remember me talking about my mom? I told you about her when we were partners.”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Eren, shrugging one shoulder. “So?”

“So she had to raise me by myself when my dad left,” said Jean. He was staring at his hands, uncomfortable with the subject. “You know why he went?”

“You said he left her, right? For someone else.”

“Yeah, he did.” Jean intertwined his fingers and clenched his hands together. “He left her for some guy he met online. He was gay as fuck and he left me and mom with nothing.” He forced himself to lift his gaze, to see the shock in Eren’s eyes. “That’s why I have a fucking problem, Jaeger. Sure, it doesn’t make it okay, but I’m not just an asshole for no reason.”

Eren was stunned into silence. It was Marco who spoke, his voice soft. “I didn’t know that, Jean. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jean grumbled. “I tell you that all the damn time.”

“Wow,” said Eren. “That’s really fucked up.”

“Whatever. I told you I’m sorry, it’s over. Are we good?”

“Are you asking if I forgive you?” said Eren. He glanced at Levi, who had listened to the story emotionlessly. “I… no. Fuck no. I’ve been through a lot of shit because of you. Apologizing doesn’t just make that go away. Just because you have a grudge against your dad doesn't make it okay. It sucks that it happened to you, but that doesn't justify the shit you did to me. You're still a dick.”

“I know. I tried.” Jean spat into the bottle again. “Come on, Marco, let’s go.” He stood and took a step toward the door before he realized he wasn’t being followed. Marco was still perched on his stool, waiting. “Fuck.” He pressed a hand against his face, hiding for a moment before forcing himself to emerge. “Fine. I’m going to tell you something, Jaeger, and I swear to god if you say anything I’ll hit you.”

“I don’t think you will,” said Eren, tilting his head toward Levi. “I think my boyfriend is tougher than you.”

“What-the-fuck-ever.” Jean hitched a thumb toward Marco. “You’ve met, right? Your replacement, Marco. He’s training with Reiner now but he was with me before.”

“Yeah, I met him,” said Eren. “He’s too nice to be your partner.”

“Well he is anyway,” said Jean, his words running together as he rushed to get them out. “We’re hanging out now. Like, not hanging out, but _hanging out_ , you know?”

Marco chimed in to help clear up Eren’s obvious confusion. “We’re kind of dating,” he admitted, flushing.

It took a moment longer than it should have for Eren to comprehend the statement. “No fucking way.” Eren slid to his feet, staring at Jean in openmouthed shock. Behind him Levi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “After all the shit you’ve said to me, you’re gay?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That’s what it fucking sounded like, Kirschtein. If you’re tapping that--” He pointed at Marco “—then you’re pretty fucking gay.” 

“Be quiet, Jaeger, fuck.” Jean glanced around the bar, making sure that no one was watching the exchange. “We’re not fucking or anything, we’re just hanging out.”

“So you don’t want to?” asked Marco. He was blushing furiously, but he was determined. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

Jean winced, both from the phrase itself and from hearing profanity spill from Marco’s mouth. “Fucking Christ, that’s not what I said, either.”

“Wow, Jean, I had no idea you were such a fucking faggot,” said Eren, eyes glinting fiercely.

“I get it, alright? I apologized, I’m sorry, I’m not going to act like that anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re not. It would probably offend your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Really, Jean?” said Marco. “You don’t want to date me?”

“Oh my god.” Jean slapped both of his hands over his face. 

“Do you, Jean?” said Eren. “Do you want to date Marco? I don’t know why he’d date you, though. He seems like a nice guy. And he’s adorable. Dimples and freckles, a double threat.”

“You shut the fuck up, Jaeger,” snapped Jean, emerging from his makeshift concealment.

“What, are you jealous? Think I’ll take him away from you?”

“You wouldn’t have a fucking chance. Come on, Marco, let’s go.”

“Why?” said Marco. “If you don’t want to date me I don’t want to waste my time.”

“Of course I want to date you!” He said it too loudly, but by that point he was too flustered to lower his voice. “Why the fuck else would I be here? Chief said I had to apologize. I could’ve just written him a fucking letter. I’m here so you can see I’m trying, Marco. I don’t give a fuck about Jaeger.”

“Wow, what a great way to wrap up an apology,” said Eren.

“Want me to hit him?” said Levi, tipping back his beer.

“Can we go now?” said Jean, ignoring both of them. “We have to be back at work at five a.m. and I’d like to hang out with you for at least a couple of hours before we have to crash.”

“Sure, let’s go.” Marco’s faux disappointment was cracked with a smile that could light up the night sky. He hopped off of his stool and held his hand out, waiting.

Jean stared at it, then looked back at Levi and Eren, who were both staring at him. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, taking Marco’s hand and allowing him to lace their fingers. They walked to the door with their interlocked hands swinging between them. Although Jean's face was hot with embarrassment, the heat of Marco’s hand in his was even warmer.


	32. Quitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday updates? What are those?
> 
> Sorry guys... It's probably just going to be Friday updates from here on out. Too much work, too little time.
> 
> I have a couple of side chapters in the works, but again, it's just a matter of having the time to finish anything.
> 
> Thanks for the patience.

A week later Jean went in for a night shift, armed with a Red Bull and a fresh can of Skoal to keep him awake. Annie tried to trip him as he walked by, but he hopped over her outstretched foot and sat in the back of the roll call room, slurping his drink as they waited for the next few minutes to crawl by. At exactly seventeen hundred hours the sergeant stepped inside, took a quick inventory of the group, and dismissed them. Jean was on his feet first, starting forward with a quick sweep of the room to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hey, wait, Sergeant!” he said, shoving past Connie and catching Sergeant Shadis before he could leave the room. “You forgot Marco, he’s not here yet. He must just be running behind.”

“Bodt’s finished, Kirschtein. Braun and Fubar are back in the same cruiser, you’re on your own again.”

“Finished?” he repeated blankly. “What do you mean finished?”

“I mean he’s not coming back,” said Shadis. “You tried to train him, emphasis on tried. You shouldn’t be surprised.”

The sergeant stomped away, leaving Jean staring after him, shocked. When had they fired him? Marco hadn’t said anything about it; he hadn’t even spoken to him that day. Surely Marco would have called. He would have told Jean what had happened, right?

Bertholt was the only one who hadn’t yet filtered out of the building. He was waiting awkwardly by the door when Jean rushed out. “Hey, wait, I need to get my stuff out of your car.”

“Yeah, whatever, here.” He tossed Bertholt his keys, ignoring the fumble that sent them into the floor, and hurried into the parking lot. 

Reiner was standing beside his Crown Vic, checking the lit screen of his cell phone. Jean was aware that Reiner had a few inches’ advantage in height and was about seventy pounds heavier, all of it muscle. He was also aware of Reiner’s military training, and the fact that he could probably nail Jean into the ground if he chose to. All the same, this logic was flattened by anger and Jean slammed Reiner against the side of his own cruiser, gripping a double handful of his uniform to hold him there.

“What the fuck, Reiner?” he demanded, shouting into his face. 

Reiner was too surprised to retaliate. He allowed Jean to pin him, staring down at him blankly. “Uh… Did I do something to you?”

“Marco!” shouted Jean. “You booted Marco to the fucking curb! He’s only been with you for six shifts, you asshole. That’s too soon to tell if he can make it or not!”

“You’re spitting in my face,” said Reiner. “You need to back off.”

“I’ll back the fuck off when you tell me what your damn problem is!”

An arm hooked around Jean’s throat and pulled him backwards, hard. He made a choking sound and stumbled, releasing Reiner to grip at the thin forearm pressing on his windpipe. 

“Breathe, Kirschtein,” said a voice in his ear, flat and female. “Oh wait, you can’t.”

Annie withdrew her arm and Jean coughed, clutching at his neck. 

“Why don’t you stop getting your damn panties in a bunch and be civil,” she said, moving to lean against the car beside Reiner, who still looked confused. “It’s not Reiner’s fault your boy’s gone.”

“Then whose fucking fault is it?”

“Ask him yourself,” said Reiner. “He quit this morning.”

Jean’s anger frosted over, replaced with icy shock. “He what?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” said Annie. “It was obvious he wasn’t going to make it. Reiner couldn’t even let him drive anymore since he backed into that fence two days ago.” “Anybody could make that mistake. I’ve backed into shit before.”

“Yeah, but when you add up all the other stuff he’s pretty much hopeless,” said Annie.

“Dude, he was pretty bad,” shrugged Reiner. “You trained him for a while, you know what I’m talking about.”

“He wasn’t that bad.”

Reiner shook his head. “He’s probably the worst I’ve had since I started. Especially compared to Jaeger, that kid knew what was going on. He was dedicated.”

Jean opened his mouth to dispute that, to argue that Eren was gay as hell and had no business being a police officer. Then he pressed his lips together again, aware of the hypocrisy that would be buzzing through that statement like a deadly jolt of electricity. 

“I guess Jaeger wasn’t bad,” he admitted. 

“You’re letting your personal feelings get in the way. You’re not being objective.” Annie folded her arms, eyeing him from beneath pinched brows. “You were biased against Jaeger for personal reasons. Now you’re defending Marco just because you like him, not because of his job performance. Because seriously, let’s be honest. I’ve backed you guys up on a couple of calls and Marco is shit. Nice guy, awful cop. Don’t lie to yourself about it, Kirschtein, it’s pathetic.”

Jean sighed. He wanted to keep arguing for Marco, to somehow convince them that he should get a second chance, if he even wanted one. He knew it would be pointless, though. Marco wasn’t cut out for law enforcement. Even aside from his performance, his attitude could have exclusively disqualified him. Jean remembered asking him why he wanted to be an officer. Marco had said it seemed like the thing to do. 

If that was the only reason you were going into policing, then you needed to find another career, and fast.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, threading a hand through his hair and turning away from Reiner and Annie. Across the parking lot Bertholt was bent double, pawing around in the trunk of Jean’s Charger.

“So you guys are pretty close, huh?” asked Reiner. 

Jean turned, expecting to be met with sarcasm and innuendo, but found none of it lurking on Reiner’s face. 

“Really close,” said Annie, raising her eyebrow. Since Reiner hadn’t gone in for the kill, she was going to do it for him. “Extremely close. How close exactly, Jean?”

He wanted to bite back a bitter reply, to advise her to mind her own damn business and stay out of his. He wanted to say that he was just concerned for Marco because he’d trained him, because they’d gotten to know each other on the job. 

Instead, he imagined how Marco would feel if he heard Jean offer any of those half-assed excuses. 

So he told the truth.

“Not close enough for him to tell me he was going to quit,” admitted Jean. He wondered why that was, why Marco would have kept it to himself when he knew Jean would find out immediately. “Close enough to fuck, though, if last night was any indication.”

Bertholt dropped all the gear that he’d retrieved from Jean’s car, a first aid kit busting open against the pavement and spewing its contents. Reiner’s jaw came unhinged and he stared at Jean as if he’d just admitted to murdering a nursery full of infants. Annie’s face stretched with the manic smile that she rarely used, the one that made her look like a panther plunging in for the kill.

Jean ignored all of them and started across the parking lot toward his car. He stepped over a gas mask that Bert had dropped, scooped his keys up off the pavement, and kept walking. As he got in the Charger, the alien sound of Annie’s high-pitched laughter gave him chills. 

When he backed the car out and steered past them, Bert was gaping at him and Reiner was grinning like a jackal. Jean supposed that was the best reaction he could have expected. At least there wasn’t the pointed sneer and stinging insults that he had offered to Eren Jaeger when the same news had been delivered to him.

Jean checked the glowing green display on the dash of his car: 17:19. He wasn’t supposed to make personal calls while he was working, but he’d done it before without incident. He felt if there was ever a time to break a rule, this would be it. Still, he wanted to speak to Marco in person. He wanted to look at him and try to understand what he was thinking, why he’d given up. Why he hadn’t told Jean what he was planning to do. 

He looked at the clock again. 17:20.

It was going to be a long damn night. 

  
  


At 4:32 Jean pulled into the parking lot of the PD, planning to wait out his last half hour on the clock in a stationary position. The call volume had been nearly nonexistent. There had been one P.I. incident but Annie had been closer to the location. She’d scooped up the drunk guy before Jean had even arrived at the business. So she got to cart him off to the jail and mark him up as one of her arrest statistics and Jean was left aimlessly driving around for three more hours afterward. 

He sat back and tugged at the bottom of his vest, which was grinding on his nerves more than usual. His sleeves were also irritating, and he cursed the winter uniforms. One of his socks had bunched up beneath his heel too and he realized, grudgingly, that it didn’t matter if anything was actually wrong. In that mood he’d find something that was bothering him one way or another.

Annie tapped on the passenger window and he redirected his annoyance to her. He rolled the window halfway down and snapped, “What?”

She snaked an arm inside and unlocked the car, yanking the door open before Jean could reverse the action. She plopped down inside, shutting the door and rolling the window back up to keep out the chilled air. 

“So, Kirschtein.” She leaned forward and started flicking through radio stations, finally giving up and turning it off completely. “How was it?”

He knew she’d been waiting for the opportunity to ask that question. That had been why he’d barely stopped driving all night. And, of course, his desperation to avoid Reiner for as long as possible. 

“None of your damn business.”

“Hey, I’ve told you about my conquests. It’s a give and take.”

“Alright then, what about your little blond boy toy?” he asked. “Did you have to train him or was he already broken in?”

“Armin is actually really good,” she said with a smile that made him slightly uncomfortable. “He’s shy at first, but when he figured out what I wanted--”

“Okay, okay, nevermind.” Jean waved his hands to cut her off, trying to wipe the mental imagery from his mind. “Jesus, I was kidding. I don’t really want details.”

“Well I do, so spill them. You’re the bottom, right?”

“No, I am fucking not!”

“That sounded defensive. Why are you being defensive?”

“Shut up, Annie. Get out of my car.”

“Nah, I think I’ll hang out,” she said, stretching like a cat and settling in more comfortably. “Are you going to see him before work tomorrow?”

“I’m going to see him in about thirty minutes.”

“Pretty sure he’ll be asleep.”

“Then I’ll wake him up. He didn’t even tell me he was quitting.” Jean looked away from her and stared out the windshield at the decrepit brick building that sat across the street from the PD. Once he’d forced open the back door and taken Marco inside to practice clearing buildings. He’d sucked at it. “I want to know why. That’s kind of important, you know?”

“He was probably worried you’d get mad at him,” said Annie. “Every time he mentioned how bad he was doing you’d get all defensive for him. He knows how much you wanted him to make it and he’s afraid you’ll be disappointed that he gave it up.”

“Who cares if I’m disappointed? It’s his life.”

“He cares, you idiot,” said Annie, slapping him lightly on the arm. “Just like you cared about how he felt when you shredded Jaeger at chief’s party. When people are together that’s what they do. They care.”

Jean sighed. He hadn’t wanted Marco to feel pressured into doing something he didn’t want to do. Jean had just wanted him to make it. He felt that Marco deserved to do anything he wanted. 

The radio blared, leaving the conversation in fragments.

“103, headquarters. What’s your twenty?”

Jean and Annie shared a look. 

Slowly, Jean unlatched the radio from the rearview and replied. “Ten-nineteen.”

“Ten-four. 104, headquarters.”

“Damn,” muttered Annie, taking the radio from him. “104.”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Same, ten-nineteen.”

Annie and Jean stared at each other, waiting. Both of them were working the same zone; the incoming call could go to either of them since they were in the same location. When the dispatcher filtered through, Jean threw his head back and groaned.

“103, ten-twenty-six subject reported at the 7-11 on Fifth Avenue. Caller stated the subject is a white female, early twenties, possibly intoxicated.”

“Fuck,” said Jean, checking the clock. It was 4:49, and the call was more than likely going to end in an arrest. He would be lucky if he got off duty by six. He reached for the radio speaker that was still in Annie’s hand and she leaned away, bringing it back to her mouth instead.

“Headquarters, 104. I’ll take that twenty-six, en route now, ETA seven minutes.”

“Ten-four, 104.”

Annie replaced the radio and shoved the car door open. Jean grabbed her by the arm before she could step out.

“You don’t have to take it,” he said. “Like you said, Marco’s asleep anyway. Another hour isn’t going to make a difference.”

“Yeah, but you’re not going to stop stressing out over it until you talk to him,” she said, smacking his hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure you pay me back. Besides, maybe this girl will put up a fight. I haven’t gotten in a good throw down in weeks.”

She got out of the Charger, the handcuffs on her belt clinking loudly as she turned and slammed the door. As she walked away Jean rolled the window down and shouted, “Thanks, Annie!”

She tossed a careless wave over her shoulder and didn’t look back.

A minute later Jean watched her taillights disappear around the corner. He had his hand on the gearshift, deciding that he should at least back her up on the call, when another voice crackled through the speaker.

“Headquarters, 305. Ten-ninety-seven on that twenty-six.”

It was Ymir.

“Ten-four, 305.”

Ymir was a bitch, but Jean couldn’t say that she wasn’t good at her job. She would have the call pretty much taken care of before Annie even arrived. Maybe neither of them would have to work over after all.

Another car wheeled into the parking lot, and Jean recognized Sergeant Dok’s Explorer. He had no desire to interact with Nile, so he backed out his car and started driving again. It was 4:54. It would take him a few minutes to get to Marco’s place. By then all of Shift 3 should have gone active, leaving him free. Technically he should have gone home and switched out the Charger for his own car, but he didn’t want to waste the time. 

As long as he left the cruiser parked until he left for his shift that night, no rules would be broken.

He would just have to spend the day at Marco’s. 


	33. Steam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post this, but hey, here it is. Sin wins again.
> 
> If you're not into nsfw, skip this chapter. Definitely skip it.
> 
> ...don't look at me.

Jean stood outside the door of Marco’s apartment, trying to shrug away the twinge of guilt that he felt for rousing Marco at five o’clock in the morning.

If he hadn’t quit his job, though, he would’ve already been awake. 

With that in mind, Jean raised his fist and pounded on the door again, hoping he wasn’t being loud enough to alert the neighbors. It would be rather uncomfortable to have the police called on him.

After an extended wait, Jean heard movement from inside.

“Police!” he said, toning down the volume that was typical of such an announcement. “Open the door!”

A moment later Marco complied, cracking the door open and squinting at him. “Jean? What are you doing?”

“Oh, good, you’re awake. Let me in.”

“Umm, sure.”

Marco backed up and allowed Jean to step inside. He flicked on the light switch and spent more time than was necessary locking the door and turning the deadbolt and latching the old, rusting chain that dangled from the doorframe. Jean stared at the mess of ruffled hair on the back of Marco’s head and the spatter of freckles that disappeared below the neck of his white t-shirt.

When Marco finally turned back he moved past Jean without looking at him, heading for the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“No, if I drink coffee I’ll never be able to sleep.”

“Okay... What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“You tell me.” Jean followed him, his boots too loud against the tile floor. Marco was fiddling with the coffeemaker when Jean gently turned him around. With the extra inch of rubber sole on the bottoms of his boots, Jean was the same height as Marco. He kept his stare steady, not allowing him to look away. “Why didn’t you tell me you were quitting?”

Marco shrugged and tried to sidestep, but Jean put a hand on his chest and kept him in place. 

“Talk to me.”

“I thought you’d be mad.” 

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you wanted me to do it,” said Marco, running a hand through his bird’s nest of hair. That only made it stick up more. 

“I thought you wanted to.”

“I did, at first. But when I actually got there and realized I wasn’t good at it…” he trailed off and dropped his eyes. “Even if I was, it’s just not something I can do. I’m not the kind of person who should be doing the job. I’m not like you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The brashness of the statement had Marco looking up again, surprised and slightly hurt. Before he could draw his own conclusions, Jean elaborated.

“You’re not like me, you’re better. This job is fucked up, Marco. It takes someone really and truly fucked up to do it. You’re too good for this shit. You deserve more.”

“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel bad.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” said Jean, and the finality in his tone left no room for argument. He rested a hand on Marco’s waist and kissed him. Initially the awkwardness of initiating intimacy with another man had been nearly crippling. They’d had practice over the past week, though. Besides, this wasn’t just another man. This was _Marco_. Everything was different when Marco was involved. All of Jean’s conventional rules were twisted and distorted and shattered.

“So you’re not mad then?” asked Marco, his cheek dimpling with a smile.

“Of course not. If you don’t want to do it then you don’t want to do it. You’re probably better off. I’m way more fucked up now than I was when I started. It changes people, and I don’t want anything about you to change.”

The compliment made Marco blush. He turned back toward the coffeemaker but Jean wrapped his arms around his waist, again preventing him.

“Fuck coffee. Let’s just go to bed, I’m exhausted.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” He planted a kiss on the side of Marco’s head and released him, pacing back into the living room and leaning against the wall for support as he unlaced his boots. 

“You can leave your gear on the table,” said Marco, watching Jean detach his earpiece and turn off the radio on his hip. “That’s where I always kept mine.”

“Alright.” 

Jean unlatched his duty belt and draped it across the table, making sure his gun was secure. He popped open the buttons of his shirt and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, moving on to the Velcro that held the sides of his Kevlar vest together. 

“Here, I’ve got it,” said Marco, reaching for the strip that was fastened around Jean’s back. He peeled it free and guided the vest over Jean’s head, leaving him standing in only his uniform trousers and a black undershirt. Marco hung the vest on one of the other chairs as Jean said, “I should take a shower before I get in your bed. I’ve sweated under that vest all damn night.”

“That’s fine, use whatever you need.”

“Take one with me.”

“Umm… okay,” said Marco, a slight flush coloring his face at the suggestion.

“You don’t have to,” said Jean, unbuttoning his pants as he started toward Marco’s bathroom. He offered a quick smirk over his shoulder. “Just an idea.”

He tried to fold his pants the best that he could since he would be re-wearing them. He put the trousers in a fairly neat stack on the back of the toilet and had just pulled his shirt over his head when Marco joined him in the bathroom. 

“I could probably use a shower,” said Marco. He rubbed at the back of his neck and the t-shirt he was wearing rode up to reveal a lightly freckled hipbone. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

“I’d share anything with you.”

The statement sounded innocent enough, but the grin on Jean’s face most definitely was not.

Five minutes later Jean had Marco pushed against the shower wall, crushing their mouths together as the steam from the hot water swirled around their naked bodies. Marco shifted, fitting himself more closely against Jean, who moaned into his mouth. 

Jean hitched up one of Marco’s legs and slipped his hand around to Marco’s ass, pressing a finger against his entrance and making him squirm.

“But if you want to just go back to bed,” said Jean, his voice low in Marco’s ear, “that’s fine. Just say so.”

“Sh-shut up,” panted Marco, his wet grip tight on Jean’s shoulders. 

“God, you’re hot.”

Marco planted his lips against Jean’s and gasped when a finger, messy with hastily drizzled lube, slipped inside him. Jean grinded against his leg and broke the kiss to move to Marco’s neck, working at the soft skin with mouth and teeth and tongue. Slowly he added a second finger, then gradually a third, until Marco’s impatience brought the preparation to a stop.

“Just do it,” he said, his entire body burning red from the combined heat of the shower and the sex. “I’m ready, do it.”

Jean couldn’t argue with that. He fumbled for the bottle perched on the lip of the tub, slapping a generous amount of lube into his palm and spreading it along his length with a few strokes of his hand. 

Jean gripped Marco just underneath his ass and lifted him against the wall, slightly out of the shower spray so the water wouldn’t rinse away the lubrication before it was put to good use. Marco kept his arms wrapped around Jean’s neck as he was lowered slowly onto Jean’s length, the sensation making him moan. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Jean, the words riding on a gasp. He leaned his forehead against Marco’s shoulder, his biceps flexing as he held Marco in place. “Tell me when.”

“Okay,” said Marco. His breath was heavy in Jean’s ear. "Am I too heavy?" 

“No, you’re fine. I’ve got you.”

Marco reached down and wrapped a hand around his own cock, thrilled by the way Jean followed the motion with hungry eyes. 

“I’m ready,” he said a moment later, rubbing his thumb over the head. 

Jean didn’t waste any time. He pulled out, slowly, then slammed back into Marco, both of them throwing their heads back from the sensation.

“Fuck,” said Jean, sliding himself out and then rolling his hips forward again. “Fuck, this is so fucking gay.”

Marco’s laugh was choked off by a sound that was half groan and half whine. He wrapped his legs around Jean’s waist, pulling him in closer, taking his full length. “God, that feels fantastic.” He started stroking his cock, slowly at first, timing the pull of his wrist with Jean’s thrusts.

In only a couple of minutes Jean had lost both his patience and his confidence that he could support Marco against the wall for an extended period of time. He sped up, slamming into Marco more quickly, his muscles straining with the effort. Marco bit down on his lip and leaned his head back against the bathroom wall, wet black hair plastered to his forehead. 

Jean shifted his stance, slightly angling his next thrust. Marco writhed in his grip, his mouth falling open and his eyes squeezing shut. “Jean!” he said, his voice a rasp. “Oh my god, Jean…” 

He tightened around Jean, and that paired with one more thrust was enough to have Jean spilling inside of Marco, the force of the orgasm so strong that he felt his legs shaking beneath him. When he rode it out he had just enough time to take in Marco’s flushed face and swollen lips before Marco followed him into bliss, stringing white streamers on both of their stomachs. The evidence was quickly washed away, but Jean made sure Marco had finished before he slid out and lowered him to the ground, his arms grateful for the respite. 

They stood there for a while, locked in a wet embrace, until Marco said quietly, “The hot water will probably give out in about five minutes. You might want to actually shower.”

Jean followed his advice, but not soon enough. Before they’d finished they were shivering beneath the cold stream as Jean struggled to wash the last suds of Marco’s shampoo out of his hair. They shut off the arctic spray and dried in content silence. Jean’s long shift was finally beginning to wear on him and he felt his thoughts getting heavier, weighed down by sleep. Marco told him that he could sleep naked so he didn’t have to recycle his pre-worn underwear, and Jean agreed contingent on the condition that Marco would do the same.

Shortly after, they were curled up in the middle of Marco’s bed, skin against skin, with the first timid rays of dawn lightening the curtained window. Marco wrapped his arm more tightly around Jean’s stomach and pulled him in closer, nuzzling into his still damp hair.

“So what are you going to do now?” asked Jean, his eyes already closed. “Since you don’t have a job.” 

“I have a few ideas,” said Marco. “My dad’s not going to be happy, but there are a lot of other things that will suit me better. We can talk about it later.”

“M’kay.”

“Goodnight, Jean.”

“’Night, Marco.”

Marco listened to Jean’s breaths deepen as he drifted into sleep, still trying to wrap his mind around how fortunate he was. He’d seen the mixed feelings that others had toward Jean, and he couldn’t really fault them for that. At his worst, Jean was abrasive and aggressive and, most recently, quite a bit hypocritical. Marco understood that, but he also understood that there was more than that, buried a little deeper, if one was patient enough to dig for it. Jean was trying, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. He was trying to do better, trying to _be_ better.

Jean was like an angry puppy, the ones that have been kicked and starved and have a propensity to bite.

They just need a little love, someone who understands them, someone who cares.

Jean was by no means made of sunlight, but maybe Marco could shine brightly enough for the both of them.


	34. Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update was a day late, sorry about that! I'll try to be punctual next week.

“I can’t believe Jean Kirschtein is gay,” said Eren for the hundredth time since the information had been revealed a few days before. “I mean, seriously. I didn’t see that coming, did you?”

“No,” Levi said flatly, for the hundredth time. “Huge surprise, unbelievable, what will we do.” 

Eren took a drink of Coke and scowled at him. “I think it’s a big deal. It’s like ironic justice.”

“I know, you’ve said that. Repeatedly.”

The two of them sat across from one another at a booth in Titan’s Tankard. They were flanked by Hanji and Petra, who were listening to the exchange with mild interest. 

“Yeah, but I’m just trying to figure it out,” said Eren. “Like, sure, he’s gay, or bi, or whatever. That’s weird enough, but why the fuck would _Marco_ want to date him? I mean, Marco seems like a decent guy, right? Why would he want to be with _Jean_?”

Levi turned his head to look at Hanji. “Change the subject, please.”

“Hmm,” said Hanji, glancing up at the ceiling while searching for a topic. “Moblit and I had sex on one of the lab tables during our lunch hour today.”

Eren had just taken another drink and proceeded to choke on it, cupping one hand over his mouth as he was assaulted by a fit of coughing. Petra patted him lightly on the shoulder, wide eyes fixed on Hanji.

“About time,” said Levi, the only one of the group who didn’t appear affected by the revelation. “How was he?”

“A little inexperienced,” said Hanji, “but his enthusiasm made up for it.”

Levi pointedly looked at Eren, which made him choke even more.

One of the men sitting at the bar waved at Petra and she hopped up, scurrying over to fetch him a drink. 

“So what are you doing, then?” Levi asked when he was certain that Eren wasn’t in immediate danger of suffocating. “Are you going to do the dating thing or be his fuck buddy?”

“I’m just going to see how it plays out,” shrugged Hanji. “He’s cute, but he’s so young. I’m afraid he’ll get tired of me after a while, so I don’t want to give him too much commitment. It’s just a good time, I don’t expect anything more, you know?”

Eren had recovered from his fit well enough to realize that what she had said could possibly apply to his own relationship. He looked to Levi, who appeared unshaken by the statement.

“No,” said Levi, “I really don’t know.”

This time when Levi met his gaze, Eren didn’t choke. He felt warmth surge into his cheeks and smiled slightly, his face twisting with the rusty emotion. 

“ _No, bitch, you listen to me_!” The voice was a throaty shout, booming loudly enough to drape a hush over the room. A man pounded a fist against the bar, leaning as far over the counter as he could manage, screaming directly into Petra’s face. She took a step back, her hands held up in a gesture of passiveness. “You bring me another fucking shot or I’ll _make_ you fucking bring it.”

Levi nudged Hanji’s shoulder, unable to slide out of the booth until she moved. Before she could comply Eren was on his feet, waving for Levi to remain in place as he stalked over to the bar.

“I’m sorry sir,” said Petra, her resolve not wavering beneath the tangible fury. Her eyes darted to the opposite side of the bar where the emergency shotgun was tucked away, too far for it to be of any use. Despite the situation, her voice was still sugar-sweet as she continued speaking. “I have to follow policy, and I feel that you’re too intoxicated to--”

“You shut your fucking mouth!” the man yelled, spraying spit as he slammed a fist into the bar again. “No scrawny little cunt is going to tell me--”

“Hey, bro,” said Eren, dropping a hand onto the man’s shoulder. “What’s your problem?”

His arm was slapped away, leaving a patch of stinging skin on Eren’s wrist. 

“You back the fuck up,” the man said. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Eren looked up at him. He was about six feet tall and probably around sixty pounds heavier than Eren. For a fleeting moment Eren wondered if it was the same guy that had tried to beat him into a bloody pulp a while back, the first time he’d met Levi. He couldn’t remember, and if it was the same man, it seemed that he didn’t recall Eren, either. 

“Don’t yell at her, she’s just doing her job,” said Eren. “You are pretty drunk. Maybe you should go home and sleep it off.”

A hand was fisted in the front of Eren’s shirt before he could react. Hot breath reeking of alcohol was huffed into his face. “You looking for a fight, kid? ‘Cause you just found one.”

A month before, Eren would have jumped at the chance. Hell, he would’ve probably already swung at the guy. A part of him still hungered for the bittersweet pain that bloomed from filthy bar fights, for the sting and aches that lingered for days afterward. It was a good distraction, an effective way to put all his painful, shameful feelings and memories into a little shadowed box, easily forgotten while he was getting his face pounded in and seeing the stark scarlet of his own blood on someone else’s knuckles. Eren liked to fight. It was thrilling, satisfying, _dangerous_.

Even though his initial reaction was to nail the man in the face, Eren tamped down the impulse. He liked to fight, but the motivation was gone. The past still hurt, but it wasn’t agony. He still felt regret, but not destructive shame. He would’ve still appreciated the sensation of someone’s nose breaking under his fist, but his sobriety made him aware that it was unwise. 

“Alright,” said Eren, with a shrug and a forced smirk. “Let’s take it outside. If you walk away from it Petra will put your drinks on my tab and let you drink all night. Right, Petra?” 

She was too confused to respond.

It took a moment for the man to puzzle out the offer, his thought process slowed by the copious lubrication of alcohol. When he realized what Eren was proposing, he grinned. “Shit, I could step on you. You’re just a little fucking shrimp.”

“Then let’s go outside and see about that,” said Eren.

“Fine, little fucker. Then they won’t have to clean your blood off the floor.” He lumbered toward the front door, more steady than Eren had expected considering how inebriated he was. 

Before following, Eren turned to Petra and mouthed the words _‘Call the police’_. He then strode across the bar, moving after the drunk man unflinchingly. There was just enough time for him to notice that Hanji had gotten up and was now hovering awkwardly at the corner of the booth where Levi still sat, steely eyes tracking Eren with narrow speculation. He started to move but Eren was already out the door, craning his head back to look at the drunkard that towered over him.

“You’re a stupid little shit,” the man garbled, his thick hands curling into fists. 

“I’ve heard that before,” said Eren. “Go on, ass face. Hit me.”

The man rose to the challenge. He swung and Eren didn’t bother to dodge. He took the blow to the jaw and rolled with the impact, staggering sideways. He quickly righted himself as the man started to swing again. Eren stepped into the motion, flinging himself against the man’s chest and throwing him off-balance. Taking advantage of the lapse, Eren jammed his knee into man’s outer thigh and sent him staggering. Before he could recover, Eren had grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind the man’s back, using the momentum to slam him against the brick wall of the building. The man struggled, but Eren just forced his arm up even higher, earning a strangled howl. With his free hand, the man slapped the wall, trying to tap out, but Eren didn’t relent.

“Not bad,” said Levi, tilting his head at the display. He had stepped outside to watch, leaving Hanji to make sure Petra’s feelings hadn’t been damaged by the drunk man’s disrespect. “I expected you to switch into rage mode, honestly.”

Eren shrugged, ignoring the whimpers that fluttered from the man’s mouth as he increased the pressure. “It didn’t seem like the best idea.”

“Why?”

Eren tilted his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Just answer the question.”

The man started wriggling and Eren tightened his grip, pinning him more securely. 

“Well look at the guy, he’s wasted as fuck,” said Eren. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’ve done the same thing and people beat the shit out of me. I don’t blame them, I know I was asking for it, but…” he trailed off with a shrug, unsure of why Levi was even asking. Getting into a bar fight wasn’t exactly classy even when someone was drunk, but engaging in a scuffle completely sober was just unacceptable.

“Well Petra called the cops,” said Levi, “so they’ll be here in about five. You planning to stick around?”

“Fuck no.” Eren considered the drunk man, who was panting against the brick wall. He released his arm, waited for him to turn around, and snapped a kick directly between his legs. The man went down like a felled tree, hands clutching desperately at his crotch. He made sounds reminiscent of a wounded ox. “That should keep him down until they get here. They’ll pick him up for PI, he’ll dry out in jail and be fine.”

“Here,” said Levi, tossing Eren the coat that he’d left balled up on the seat of the booth. 

“Thanks.” Eren shook out the coat and struggled into it as the two of them crossed the parking lot at a quick pace. Eren started for the passenger door but Levi beat him there, pausing with his fingers wrapped around the handle.

“What’re you doing?”

“Other side,” said Levi, pressing the button on his keychain that unlocked the doors. “You’re driving.”

Eren came to a full stop at the corner of the bumper, staring at Levi like the man had lost his mind. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I shit you not. Hurry it up, I don’t have a damn thing to say to the police.”

“But--”

The excuse died on his lips as Levi got in the Lexus and slammed the door. He hesitated, but the pressing knowledge that a police car would swing into the parking lot at any given moment had him shuffling around to the other side and cautiously climbing into the driver’s seat. He immediately had to edge the seat back a little to accommodate the length of his legs. When he was situated, he gripped the steering wheel hard in both hands, staring at it.

“Uh, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t driven a car in, like, three months. And this one is probably worth more than my life.”

“It was only forty thousand.”

Eren’s jaw dropped.

“And I have insurance, so who the fuck cares.”

“But Levi--”

“But nothing, get us out of this damn parking lot before I have to look at a fucking cop.”

Eren swallowed and obeyed, reaching for the key in the ignition before he realized there wasn’t one.

“Push the brake,” said Levi. When Eren complied, Levi reached over and jabbed the ignition button, the engine purring to life beneath them.

“Okay,” said Eren, staring down at the glow of the dashboard like he was trying to tame a wild beast. “Right.” He shifted into reverse, swiveled to see out the back window, and crept out of the parking spot at the pace of an elderly slug. 

Levi pressed a hand against his face, suppressing the impatient comment that burned on his tongue.

Eventually Eren shifted back into drive and crawled onto the roadway, his hands at ten and two in a virtual death grip. 

“You’re not going to hurt the car.”

Eren just nodded, mouth clamped tightly shut.

A police cruiser sped past them in the opposite direction, blue lights flashing. Eren stiffened even more and Levi reached over and flicked his arm, wondering if he would shatter.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being an idiot. Just drive.”

Eren huffed and pressed more firmly on the gas pedal, bringing the car up to the speed limit. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you wanna go?”

Eren shrugged. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I said no you’d just ask anyway.”

“Why do you avoid the police? You have no reason to, not like me. And I mean, you were at that party at chief’s house and everything. Why bother dodging them the rest of the time?”

“I went to Erwin’s party because the bastard made me,” said Levi. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. I don’t mind the ones I don’t know. Like that freckled kid, he wasn’t bad. The ones I worked with are different. They know me too well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Eren, confused. None of them even knew that Levi was interested in men; they obviously didn’t know him _that_ well.

“They know my past,” said Levi, “and they think about it every time they look at me. I can see it in their faces. It reminds me of shit I don’t want to think about.”

The bitterness coating his words helped Eren put the pieces together. “You mean that thing that happened, the reason you quit,” he said quietly. “The thing you won’t talk about.”

“Exactly.”

Despite the nearly unquenchable desire to try and pry the information out of him, Eren kept his curiosity and concern to himself. Levi didn’t comment, but the tension weighing down his shoulders seemed to ease when Eren allowed the topic to fade.

“Why are you letting me drive your car?”

Levi reached over to change the radio station before settling back in his seat. “Because I want to play a game.”

“A game?” asked Eren, skeptical. “What kind of game?”

“Let’s play cops.”


	35. Drive

“Take me to 103 Trivett Lane,” said Levi, resting an elbow on the windowsill of the car. “You know where it is?”

“Of course I do, but why?”

“It’s a game.”

“It’s like field training,” grumbled Eren, drawing the car to a smooth stop at the red traffic light. While stationary he turned toward Levi, trying to determine his motivation. “This is what Reiner made me do when I was learning city geography.”

“Not surprising,” said Levi. “When he first started at the PD he didn’t know where fucking Main Street was. I made him play this game for weeks.”

“You trained Reiner?”

“Why do you think he’s so good at his job?”

Eren rolled his eyes and focused on the road again as the light changed. Despite his disdain for the nostalgia, he obediently made a left turn and started East toward the less populated area of town. 

“Did you pass all your phases?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Eren, as if it were obvious. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“A lot of new officers have to be recycled through at least one phase of training. I was just wondering.”

“No, I did pretty well,” said Eren. “Reiner chewed my ass for a few things, but they weren’t a big deal. I put myself through the academy so I knew most of the stuff already.”

“There’s a difference between getting through the academy and being able to do the job,” said Levi. “A big difference.”

Eren shrugged and kept driving, the needle on the speedometer still sticking stubbornly to the posted speed limit.

Twenty minutes later they’d crossed to the extreme opposite end of the city. Eren turned onto Trivett Lane and pointed at the second house on the right as they drove by. “103.”

Levi checked the time. It was 11:00, late enough for traffic to be notably sparse, especially in that area. 

“Alright, 548 Poplar Street,” said Levi as Eren paused at the stop sign at the end of the street. “Take me there like you’re running code.”

Eren had taken his foot off the brake, but suddenly stomped back down on it, jolting the car. He stuttered out a few broken words before managing, “You’re kidding.”

Levi’s stare was flat. “Do I look like I’m kidding? You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t do jokes.”

“You want me to run code in your car,” repeated Eren, hoping he’d misunderstood. “Like, Priority 3? Like, lights and sirens?”

“Well obviously I don’t have lights and sirens, but do your best.”

“I don’t know how you did it when you were a cop,” said Eren, “but when we got a Priority 3 call I drove like my fucking life depended on it.”

“Then do it.”

“I mean, like, eighty miles an hour.”

“I know, Eren, I’m not an idiot.”

The look Eren gave him suggested otherwise. “I can’t drive like that!”

“Why not? You’ve been driving just fine, you’re not really out of practice.”

“Because I’ll get arrested for reckless endangerment!”

“Don’t be dramatic,” said Levi, flicking through radio stations again. “None of the police will try and pull you over. They know my car, and they’re sure as fuck not going to write me a ticket.”

“But it’s breaking the law.”

“It’s a game.”

“Levi--”

“Eren.”

They sat unmoving at the stop sign for a full minute, communicating only through eye contact. Eren searched for some sort of hint, a reason why Levi would possibly ask him to do something so stupid. All he found was stern resolve.

“Ten-eighty-six,” said Levi, his voice low. “The call came from a neighbor who can hear a woman screaming at the residence. History of domestic disputes at the address. Last time police were dispatched the man threatened to kill his wife and himself. He went to the psych ward but got released two days ago. 548 Poplar Street.”

“Levi, I--”

“You just wasted five seconds.”

Eren’s jaw tightened. He broke his gaze away and directed it through the windshield.

“Fine.”

He slammed the gas pedal and the car lurched forward, cutting into the turn so sharply that it pitched both of them to the left. Eren leaned with the curve and dropped his hands to the bottom of the steering wheel for better control. As they neared the end of the street Eren barely tapped on the brake, releasing it and again gunning the gas as he made the turn. 

The car was made for luxury, but it was also built for speed. Before they’d even cleared the next street Eren had coaxed it up to 65, the cramped buildings blurring by as he sped past. 

As he screeched around the next corner he chanced a quick glance at Levi, who wore a smirk of satisfaction. 

That only made Eren drive faster.

Eren tore through a series of stop signs, barely slowing before breezing past. As they approached a red light he nudged the brake, decreasing his speed just long enough to confirm that the intersection was clear before accelerating through it. Several pedestrians who had just stepped out of a club on the corner turned to stare, openmouthed. 

“This is stupid,” said Eren, holding his breath as he hit another curve without bothering to slow first. The car pitched to the side but he kept control, gripping the wheel like it was binding him to life. 

“This is fantastic,” countered Levi. He leaned with the motion of the car, unbothered, one hand wrapped firmly around the grip in the door to keep himself stable. 

“You’re insane.”

“It’s possible.”

Less than a minute later Eren drew to a sudden stop, jolting both of them forward. He barely managed to keep himself from bashing his face into the steering wheel. He was breathing heavily, heart beating quickly as it spread the surge of adrenaline through his veins.

Levi glanced out the window at the plastic numbers nailed to the front of the house. “This is 542.”

“548 is the white one there,” said Eren, pointing three houses down. “Usually I’d park a block away, but the way this neighborhood is laid out they wouldn’t be able to see the police car from there. It’d still be a stealth approach.”

Levi was looking at him strangely and Eren found himself unable to interpret the expression. He shifted beneath the scrutiny and said, “So? Did I pass?”

“It wasn’t a test.”

“Okay, then did I win?”

“No. The woman died. You would’ve made it in time to save her if you hadn’t hesitated.”

“I wouldn’t have hesitated if you hadn’t told me to do something insane.”

“If it’s insane then why’d you do it?”

“Because you told me to!”

“So if I told you to jump off a bridge--”

The last half of the cliché was interrupted by a digital purr that filtered through the car’s speakers. The screen on the dash lit up, informing Levi that he had an incoming call from “Erwin Smith”.

Eren cringed when he saw the name, hoping that Levi would decline the call. Instead he pressed the “Answer” option on the touch screen. 

“What is it, Erwin?” said Levi without preamble. 

Eren shifted the car into park and stared out the window, trying to regulate his breathing. 

“Levi, where are you?” asked the chief’s rumbling voice, reading through the speakers so clearly that it was like he was sitting in the backseat. Eren spared a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm that he wasn’t.

“Does it matter?”

“Considering about six calls have come in complaining about a black Lexus driving recklessly through the middle of town, yes, I think it matters.”

“The middle of town,” scoffed Levi. “How dramatic. I’m on the East end, nowhere near the middle of town.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why do you automatically assume it’s me?” asked Levi. “I’m sure there are other cars just like mine in the city.”

“And their owners probably obey traffic laws.”

“Don’t blame me, blame Eren,” said Levi, glancing over at him. “Kids these days.”

“Eren?”

“Uh, hi, chief.”

“Levi, I swear to god--”

“Calm down, old man, don’t have a heart attack,” said Levi. He reclined in his seat and looked up through the clear glass of the moon roof. “Remember that conversation we had the other day? I was just checking.”

Eren raised his eyebrows in a silent question but Levi didn’t feel the need to elaborate. 

Erwin’s voice sounded surprised. “I thought you said--”

“I know what I said. I think I changed my mind. We’ll talk about it later, I’m a little busy right now.”

“Well stop driving like a maniac. This isn’t a bad drag racing movie.”

“Right. You heard the man, Eren. Stop driving like a maniac.”

“But I--”

“Oh, and Erwin,” said Levi. “Turn off your damn radio and get some rest. You don’t have to know what’s going on all the time. Nile’s on duty, he can handle it.”

Erwin’s sigh sounded so close that Eren could almost feel the hair rustle at the base of his neck. “I know, Levi. It’s part of the job.”

“Well fuck the job and go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.”

The call ended with a click. Eren immediately said, “What was that about?”

“Obviously dispatch has gotten calls about your driving.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. That thing you said, a conversation the two of you had or something.”

“Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I--”

“Let’s go back to the bar and check up on Petra. The cops should’ve scraped that dickwad up off the sidewalk and carted him away to the jail by now.”

Eren didn’t move. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“There’s nothing to tell, brat. Just drive.”


	36. Expand

Mikasa had been in the process of pinning her hair back. She stopped suddenly, a bobby pin squeezed between her fingers, and looked at Eren in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

Her tone was ice. “I did not invite him.”

Eren’s forehead creased beneath the weight of his scowl. “You didn’t have to. I did.”

“Eren--”

“No, Mikasa, don’t even start. You invited Armin, and you know he’s bringing Annie. You and Mike are going. You expect me to just show up and be the third wheel?” He hesitated, then corrected himself. “The fifth wheel?”

“It’s not as if it’s a date,” said Mikasa. “It’s just dinner.”

“A dinner date.”

“I don’t want him there.”

“What’s your fucking problem with Levi?” demanded Eren, his voice rising. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s awesome. You’ve never even been around him, so how can you hate him?”

“I don’t hate him. I just don’t like him being around you.”

“He’s my boyfriend!”

“I’m aware of that.” Mikasa refocused on her hair, securing one side back before turning to face Eren. She was still wearing her work clothes; form-fitting black dress, blazer, high heels. Eren felt that it was the attire of someone going on a _date_. “Is he your boyfriend because you like him, or because he’s the first male who has shown any sort of romantic interest in you?”

Eren’s mouth fell open. He was so shocked by the implication that he couldn’t respond at first. Then the surprise paved the way for a rush of scalding anger and he snapped. “Is that your problem?” he said, his voice cresting a yell. “You think I’m just dating him because I’m _desperate_?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what it fucking sounded like.”

Mikasa stared down at her brother, her heels giving her a few inches of height over him. “I just think that maybe he is taking advantage of you.”

“We haven’t even fucked!”

Mikasa winced and looked away. “Please, Eren. I don’t want to picture you doing that with anyone. Besides, that’s not what I meant. Stop taking things out of context.”

“Then what do you mean?”

With a sigh, Mikasa turned and left the bathroom, clicking into the living room and retrieving her scarf off of the back of the couch. Eren followed grudgingly. As she draped it around her neck, she said, “I mean he’s twenty years older than you. It’s weird, Eren. He may tell you that he cares, but I can’t see it. When you ran away from the police department’s party, clearly upset, he just let you go. I tried to go after you and he stopped me. I let that midget bastard talk me out of trying to help my brother and then you went and nearly destroyed yourself. He obviously doesn’t care about you, Eren.”

“It’s seventeen years. And he’s not a midget. He’s only, like, three inches shorter than us,” mumbled Eren, his anger ebbing around the edges as he realized what Mikasa’s true issue with Levi was. “He apologized to me for that night. He thought I just needed some time to myself. He didn’t know how fucked up I am or he wouldn’t have let me go.”

“Don’t say that about yourself. You are not fucked up.”

She reached for him and he pulled away, taking a step back. “I am, Mikasa. You know I am. I have been ever since I started living with you, before then, even. But you have to see it’s getting better. I’m not as bad as I was, and you know why?” She didn’t answer, her stare cool and even. “It’s because of him. He makes it better. He makes everything better. I haven’t had a drink in a week, and you know what? I haven’t really needed one. Levi makes me happy. He likes me, even though we all know how fucked up I am. He likes me anyway. Do you know how that feels, after so many people have made it crystal clear how much of a freak I am?”

They stood like that for a long moment, Eren with his face set in a challenge, Mikasa with her gaze expertly impassive. Finally it was she who spoke.

“He can come,” she said, “but I still don’t have to like him.”

“Fine. I don’t have to like Mike either.”

Her mouth twitched at that, almost a smile. “But you do. He’s growing on you.”

“He is not. Shut up.”

  
  
  
  
An hour later they were seated around a table at the same restaurant that Eren had visited with Armin and Annie when he’d first been told they were dating. He wasn’t extremely pleased to return, and Levi looked equally out of place, but everyone else seemed satisfied. 

Armin was brightly explaining how they had hired a new tech at his company and he could now switch back to the night shift so he could give more attention to his management duties. Eren was half-listening but he couldn’t keep himself from glancing across the table at Annie every few minutes. She had worn a dark sweater dress and her hair was down, falling freely about her shoulders. Eren had only seen her out of uniform a handful of times and was still trying to mentally reconcile that it was the same person. “So Mike,” said Levi, when the conversation lapsed. “What’s happening in investigations these days?”

“Same as usual,” said Mike with a shrug. “Finally nailed someone for that string of auto burglaries that have been happening over the past month.”

“Was it Renfro?” asked Annie, leaning forward so she could see him past Armin. “I’ve been wanted to bust up that little cocksucker for years.”

“Nope. Terrence Whaley.”

“Whaley?” repeated Levi, his lip curling in disgust. “That bastard’s not in prison yet?”

“Not yet. Soon, if we have anything to do with it.”

“I haven’t arrested him in months,” said Annie, thoughtfully. “Last time he tried to run so I got to tackle him. And then, you know, he might’ve gotten tased. For my own safety.”

“It won’t hurt him,” said Mike with a shrug. “He still has that scar on his neck.”

“Oh shit,” said Levi, “I forgot about that. Best day of my life.”

He snorted a laugh, joined by Mike and Annie. Eren and Armin just stared at them, bemused. Mikasa tossed Levi a glare. 

“How’s corrections treating you?” asked Annie after the moment had passed. “I guess you’re reforming all the wayward criminals now.”

“Fuck that,” muttered Levi. “If they get put on probation with me there’s no reforming them. They assign me the worst ones because I can handle them. All I do is wait for them to fuck up again so I can put them back in jail where they belong.”

“I thought corrections was about correcting behavior,” said Mikasa. “Second chances.”

“Some people are beyond help. The world would be better off without them.”

“You kind of have a bad attitude.”

“If you’d seen what I have then you’d feel differently.”

Mikasa pressed her lips together and returned to her food, resisting the urge to further the argument. Eren noticed Mike and Annie exchange a look, but he couldn’t decipher what passed between them. Armin was just as lost as he was.

“So…” said Eren, drawing out the word to try and cover the awkward pause. “Armin, what are you and Annie doing after dinner?”

“The shift is getting together at my place,” said Annie, answering for him. “Armin agreed to come hang out.”

“Oh, so you mean you’re all getting together to get wasted,” concluded Eren. He’d been to a couple of parties at Annie’s house when he’d still worked at the PD. He had participated and knew very well how they ended.

“I’m sure Jean and Connie will,” said Annie, “but it’s not like a party. We’re just hanging out, bonding and shit. You can come if you want.”

The invitation was given so flippantly that it caught Eren off guard. “Uh. No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You can bring captain, too. God knows we all wish he was still around instead of Brzenska.”

“No, thanks.”

“Come on, Eren, don’t be a little bitch,” chided Annie.

“It’s fine,” said Armin, diffusing the conversation before it could become an argument. “He doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to. I’m sure he and Levi have plans anyway.” He smiled at Eren, who could sense the discomfort beneath the expression. Despite what he said, Eren knew that Armin would prefer if Eren went with them. He was uncomfortable with the thought of being surrounded by cops, too.

Eren felt bad for his friend, but not quite bad enough to put himself in a situation where humiliation was inevitable. Jean had apologized, the sincerity questionable, but that didn’t mean that the other guys on the shift would follow his example. 

“We should drop by,” said Levi, shocking Eren into silence. “We’re not doing anything, anyway.”

Eren tried to keep his mouth from falling open. It had been only days since Levi was explaining how averse he was to interacting with the people that he once worked with, how it dredged up memories best left buried. What the hell was he doing?

“Uh, okay, sure,” said Eren. He could’ve argued with Annie or Armin indefinitely, but Levi was different. “Maybe just for a little bit.”

“Mike?” said Annie. “You want to come by, for old time’s sake? You know patrol officers know how to have fun, unlike your buddies down in investigations.”

“I’d rather spend the rest of the evening with Mikasa,” he said. “Besides, nothing you could ever do could compare with the shindigs our division has.”

“The fact that you used the word ‘shindigs’ really makes me doubt that,” said Annie.

Armin chuckled. Pleased, Annie reached over to lace her fingers with his underneath the table. Eren looked away and tried not to gag.

  
  
  
  
About forty-five minutes later Levi parked his car at the curb in front of Annie’s house. The lights were on and Eren could see movement through the windows. Obviously the shift had invited themselves over before she’d even gotten home.

“Why are we here?” asked Eren, the question making Levi pause with his hand on the door handle. “I mean, why did you want to come here? I know you don’t like spending time around them. You said they give you a look.”

“Most of them do,” said Levi. “Annie isn’t so bad.”

“What about the rest of them?”

“I’d rather avoid them when possible.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing?”

Levi sighed and let his hand fall away from the door, resigning himself to the conversation. Annie was letting herself into the house. Armin paused on the threshold and looked at the Lexus over his shoulder before following. 

“Neither of us particularly want to be here,” he said, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind Eren’s ear. 

Eren went stiff with surprise. Levi didn’t usually touch him unprovoked, with no reason. 

Levi interpreted his reaction incorrectly and pulled away, but Eren caught his hand before he could withdraw it. He intertwined their fingers and kept a firm grasp on Levi’s hand as he waited for him to finish the explanation.

“I think it’s good for you,” admitted Levi, squeezing Eren’s hand lightly. “You’ve spent so much time running from these people that you’ve probably built a façade for them that isn’t completely accurate.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Levi’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “It means you’re expecting the worst. Face your fears, kid. It’ll make you stronger.”

“But I don’t know what to say to them.”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Just see what happens.” Levi slipped his hand away and got out of the car, leaving Eren with no choice but to do the same. 

They walked up the path side by side, Eren wanting to reach for Levi’s hand but unable to bring himself to do so. The two of them stopped at the door and Levi looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Ready, kid?”

Eren exhaled heavily. He didn’t want to face any of the people he knew were waiting on the other side of the door. He could have written a novel full of the insults and jokes that the group had made at his expense. He was afraid it would devolve back to that level, and he was afraid of what would happen to him if it did. He’d gone a long time without a drink, and he didn’t want to be plunged back into a situation that made him feel as if he needed one.

It was a little late for that, though. Just standing there stressing over it made him long for a nice tall tumbler of tequila.

Still, Levi said it was going to be fine, and he trusted Levi. Maybe it really would be good for him. Maybe he could face them this one last time and be finished with them for good.

And if they made fun of him, Levi would probably hit them.

Relieved at the thought, Eren nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's winding down, you guys. There's only a handful of chapters left. Probably five or six, I'm changing a few things so I'm not completely sure. ^^
> 
> There will be another addition to the Side Notes chapters after chapter 39 is posted that covers a couple of requests I've received. If anyone has any other suggestions for additional chapters I'd be glad to hear them!


	37. Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is about to be at 6000 hits and I think that's spectacular. Thank you guys for continuing to read and for all your comments, I like to hear from all of you. ^^
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, it was fun to write!
> 
> Also, if you're looking for more smut, no worries. Give me another chapter or two. I've got it covered.

When Eren stepped into Annie’s house he was heralded by the sound of derisive laughter. He backpedaled immediately, impeded from retreating when he bumped into Levi’s solid body in the doorway.

Levi gave him a gentle push and closed the door, blocking his escape. Bracing himself, Eren dragged his gaze up to the cluster of people across the room, his dread melting as he realized they weren’t laughing at him.

Jean was on the floor, trying fruitlessly to worm his way out of Reiner’s solid headlock. Bertholt, Connie, and Marco were crowded together on the couch, Marco looking a great deal more reserved than the others. Armin had taken the safer option of sitting on the otherwise vacant sofa on the opposite side of the room, and he was visibly relieved when Eren walked in. 

“Is the cable out?” asked Levi, accepting the scene as if it was ordinary. He moved across the room and sat by Armin, in the middle of the second couch. 

“Nah, Kirschtein was just talking some shit that he couldn’t back up,” explained Reiner, not even slightly out of breath. He released his grip and straightened, grinning down at Jean as he tried to put his hair back in order. 

“It’s not my fault you pour milk on your steroids and eat them like fucking cereal,” grumbled Jean. He pushed himself to his feet and dropped onto the couch between Marco and Connie. 

Connie made a face at him and tried to scoot away, closer to Bertholt. “Don’t touch me, Kirschtein, I might catch your gay,” he said, crossing his index fingers like a shield. Eren had just sat next to Levi and he sucked in a breath, tension soaking into his body so quickly that it made him dizzy. 

“Fuck off, Connie,” said Jean, rolling his eyes and slinging an arm around Marco’s shoulders. His eyes found Eren across the room. “On second thought, it might actually be contagious. I probably caught it from Jaeger.”

They laughed, but it didn’t have the cruel edge that Eren expected. There was nothing sharp about it, nothing mocking. He felt Levi looking at him and tried to smile for his sake.

“Hey, Reiner, how about a real fight?” said Annie as she emerged into the room from the back hallway. She had shed the dress and exchanged it for sweatpants and a tank top, her hair twisted back in its typical bun. “Kirschtein’s not even good enough to be considered a practice round.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t do it, man,” said Connie, his eyes on Annie as he addressed Reiner. “You know what happened last time.”

“Last time she got lucky,” said Reiner. He interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles, smirking. “I can take her.”

Annie’s smile was the most genuine that Eren had ever seen from her. She stepped forward, facing Reiner in the wide space that existed between the two couches. Apparently the furniture had been pushed back against the opposing walls before the scuffle had started. The living room was large, providing ample space for sparring. 

Annie braced her bare feet against the floor, knees bent slightly, and raised her fists. “Come at me, bro,” she said, the fierceness in her eyes mismatched with the humor of the statement.

“Don’t go whining to sergeant if I hurt you,” said Reiner, turning slightly to the side and mimicking her. 

“I won’t be the one whining.”

Reiner moved first, taking a shuffling step forward and throwing an experimental jab in Annie’s direction. She ducked it easily, wrapped an arm around Reiner’s shoulder, and tucked one of her legs behind his. Before he could react he was on the floor, Annie staring down at him with obvious satisfaction.

Connie was laughing so hard that he looked like he was in pain. Everyone else joined in, and even Eren found himself chuckling at the resentful look on Reiner’s face as he climbed to his feet. 

“Lucky shot,” he grumbled, electing to lean against the wall rather than try and squeeze his bulk onto one of the already occupied couches. 

“It’s not luck, it’s skill,” Annie corrected. Her gaze slid to Levi. “I learned from the best.”

Eren looked from Levi to Annie and back again. Levi sat with his arms folded and an expression of what may have been pride. 

“Want to go a quick round?” asked Annie. “It’s been a while, captain.”

“I’m not your captain anymore,” said Levi, “and I’d hate to embarrass you in front of your whole shift.”

“Ooooh.” Several of them chorused the sting of the insult, but Annie was unaffected.

“No one else here could beat you,” said Annie with a shrug, “so I wouldn’t be embarrassed. But you’re not as young as you used to be. I think I could take you now.”

Levi sighed so deeply that Eren felt the shift of the couch cushion they were seated on. Then he kicked off his shoes, peeled his socks off, and stood to accept the challenge. The entire shift started yelling like they were at a boxing match. Levi stripped off his jacket and draped it across the arm of the couch beside Eren. Then he moved to the center of the room to face Annie. Levi unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and started rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. 

“Ground rules?” he said, popping open the top two buttons on his shirt. 

“No blows to the head,” suggested Annie. “I don’t have mouthpieces for both of us.”

“That’s fair. I don’t want to mess up your smile since you use it so often.”

“As if,” she scoffed. “You’re the one I’m worried about. Don’t want your boyfriend to lose his attraction for you when you walk away from me with no front teeth.”

It was said as a jab, but again Eren didn’t sense any animosity; not from Annie, not from anyone.

Reiner plopped down on the newly vacated spot on the couch between Armin and Eren, a lopsided grin on his face. “She hasn’t fought anyone better than her in a long time,” he said. “She’s getting too cocky. Levi’s going to knock her down a peg or two.”

“Are they going to hurt each other?” asked Armin, watching Annie sink into her fighting stance. 

“Nah, there won’t be any permanent damage,” said Reiner. Levi flexed his fingers but didn’t raise his fists as Annie did. He simply stood still, waiting. “You ever seen him fight?”

Eren was so fixated on Levi that he barely registered that the question had been directed toward him.

“No,” said Eren, “I didn’t know it was his thing.”

“Hell yeah it is. He’s the best the PD’s ever had.”

There was a measure of respect in his voice that was unmistakable. Eren wondered if Reiner was actually aware that Levi liked men. Surely Annie had told him; she just made a comment a moment before about Eren being his boyfriend. Did Reiner still respect him, even if he was gay?

There wasn’t time to ponder the question. Annie surged forward, whipping a leg through the air so quickly that it was a blur.

Eren knew that Annie was a good fighter. He’d seen her spar a few times during training when he’d been on the shift, and she’d demolished anyone she’d been paired against. Her biggest advantage was her speed. 

As it turned out, Levi was faster.

In a motion so quick that Eren couldn’t follow it, Levi dodged the kick and lunged forward with a jab to Annie’s ribs. It connected and she slid back, but it was obvious the blow didn’t hurt. Levi had pulled the punch. 

Annie went for another kick. When Levi started to move out of the way she pulled it back, swiveling and redirecting her momentum into the opposite leg. Levi couldn’t dodge it, but he caught her shin with his palm and turned into her, swinging his elbow backward. She caught his arm, deflected the blow, and they broke apart again.

Levi calmly pushed his hair back, eyes not straying from Annie’s hands. As soon as she moved he mirrored her and they were tangled in a dance of kicks and spins and punches. 

Reiner joined the others in shouting encouragements and insults, but Eren just sat with his mouth open, wondering how he hadn’t known that he was dating a fucking ninja.

The fight ended abruptly. Annie went in for another kick and this time Levi didn’t step out of the way. Eren tensed up, certain that he was about to be hurt. Just before her foot connected, Levi seized Annie’s ankle and pulled, hard.

She landed on her back, and before she could right herself Levi had his foot on her throat, pinning her in place.

“Tap out, bitch.”

“You’re an ass.” Her voice was flat, but her eyes gleamed. She slapped her hand against the floor and he stepped back, offering a hand to help her gain her feet. When Annie was up she dusted herself off and rearranged the hair that had gone astray during the scuffle. “Good fight. Guess you’re not that old after all.”

“Don’t forget it.” Levi was slightly out of breath, but was much less affected by the physical exertion than Annie. “Anybody else need a few holes shot through their pride?”

Eren glanced sideways at Reiner, expecting him to jump at the chance to prove himself, but he sat quietly. Armin was still watching Annie with wide eyes, obviously in awe despite the loss. 

“Eren,” said Levi, curling a finger at him. “Come fight me.”

Eren stayed where he was, certain that he’d misheard. “Umm, what?”

“Yeah, go on, Jaeger,” said Reiner, slapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Eren was certain that Reiner just wanted to see as many people as possible get knocked on their asses so he wouldn’t feel so bad about losing to Annie.

“No, I’m good. I’ll just watch.”

“Come on, Jaeger, don’t be a little bitch,” said Jean from across the room. His arm was still around Marco, who appeared slightly flustered by the attention. 

“Fuck you, Kirschtein,” said Eren. “Let’s see you beat him.”

“I’m not fighting him. I’m not an idiot.”

“Come on, Eren,” said Levi. His lip was curling with that subtle hint of amusement that Eren had learned to notice. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Eren silently cursed. Apparently Levi knew him better than he was willing to admit. It was impossible for him to ignore a taunt like that. 

With a grimace, Eren kicked off his shoes and stood, to the satisfaction of everyone else in the room. He shed his coat and tossed it on top of Levi’s. Since they’d gone out somewhere nice for dinner he had worn his button-up shirt again. He felt it was too constricting for any physical activity so he yanked open all the buttons and wriggled out of it, left in a plain black undershirt. 

Reiner and Connie catcalled as he slowly stepped into the center of the room, a few feet away from Levi, whose eyes never left him.

“You look scared,” noted Levi with a smirk. He was provoking him, and Eren couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t the way that Levi typically behaved. “Are you scared, Jaeger?”

“I had the top hand-to-hand combat score in the academy,” said Eren. “Are you scared?”

Levi’s smirk tilted a little higher. “I was the PD’s defensive tactics instructor for ten years. I think I can handle myself.”

Eren hadn’t known that, but it was too late to gracefully excuse himself from the fight. Besides, this was Levi. Levi wouldn’t really hurt him.

“You want ground rules?” asked Levi.

“I don’t care. I can take a hit.”

“Suit yourself.”

Connie was still making snide comments from the sidelines as Eren raised his fists and let them hover near his chest, waiting. Levi stood with his arms at his sides. The only thing that moved was his eyes, tracking Eren’s every twitch.

If he hadn’t just watched Levi and Annie spar, he would have been confused. Now, though, he realized it was just Levi’s style. Aware that he would have to strike first, he took a quick step forward and then pulled back, waiting to see if Levi would react. 

He didn’t even blink.

Frustrated, Eren decided to at least put on a good show. He wasn’t expecting to win, not after he’d witnessed how good Levi really was. A year ago he may have had a shot. A year ago he’d followed his routine schedule at the gym, and when he wasn’t lifting or running he was practicing fighting techniques. Now he was out of shape and out of practice, but he still felt he was a decent opponent.

He swooped in and feigned a kick, his only advantage the fact that Levi had no idea what his fighting style was. As soon as he saw Levi move he dropped his leg and swung, hard. Levi moved out of the way, but didn’t entirely escape the blow. It glanced off of his shoulder, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

Eren didn’t take the time to bask in the miniscule victory. He stayed on the offensive, throwing jabs at Levi’s ribs and forcing the shorter man to back up to avoid the impacts. As soon as Eren paused to change his strategy, Levi threw a foot into his stomach and made him stumble back, clutching his midsection. He expected Levi to give him time to recover, and he was wrong.

Eren flung himself sideways to avoid the uppercut that was inches away from connecting with his chin. He felt the air from the sweeping motion and straightened back into his fighting stance despite his shortness of breath. 

Levi shifted his weight to one leg and swung the other in a roundhouse that would have connected with Eren’s face if he hadn’t raised his arm to deflect the blow. His forearm stung from the impact and he rushed forward again, ramming a knee into Levi’s leg just as he’d done with the drunk man at the bar. 

Aside from being sober, Levi was also more durable. He took the blow in stride, using the proximity to seize one of Eren’s arms and twist it behind his back, using his own strategy against him.

Instead of struggling against his grip, Eren threw a kick backwards and felt his foot connect with Levi’s leg. It didn’t make him release the pressure, so he did it twice more, each time harder than the first, until Levi grunted and released him. He backed away and Eren turned to face him, shaking his arm at his side to try and flush out the pain.

Eren knew that he would lose sooner or later, and if they kept going like that it would be sooner. He decided to employ a different strategy.

He ran straight at Levi, catching him off guard. He launched himself into the shorter man, bringing both of them to the ground amid a roomful of shouts and laughter. They struggled on the floor, each trying to establish a position of dominance. Eren gained the upper hand through sheer willpower, pinning Levi down with his weight. The advantage didn’t last long. Levi managed to get a leg between them and planted his foot on Eren’s chest, flinging him away. Eren landed on his back and tried to scramble back up, but Levi didn’t give him the chance. An arm wrapped around his neck, tightly enough to make breathing difficult but loosely enough that he wouldn’t suffocate; not quite. Eren dug his fingers into Levi’s arm, trying to find enough purchase to pry it away, but it was a useless effort. He kept struggling and Levi flexed, closing his throat off a little bit more.

“Tap out,” Levi whispered in his ear, his amusement evident. 

Eren shook his head as best he could. “I don’t tap out,” he said, the words choked and forced between gritted teeth. 

Levi tightened his grip again, trying to force him, but Eren still refused. 

Finally Levi decided he’d had enough. He released him and Eren fell forward, barely catching himself with outstretched palms. He stayed on the floor on his hands and knees, panting, until Levi’s bare feet entered his narrow field of vision. Eren raised his head to find Levi’s hand extended, waiting. 

With a weary grin, Eren wrapped his hand around Levi’s wrist and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. 

“Not bad, kid,” said Levi. The others were making jokes and laughing and being generally obnoxious, but Eren had no problem tuning them out. His boyfriend was looking at him, and on his typically impassive face was a genuine smile. “Not bad at all.” 


	38. Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's winding down, you guys. I'm going to miss it when it's over... but I do have another fic in the works that I'll probably start posting as soon as this one wraps up. If you're interested then stay tuned for that. ^^
> 
> As always, thanks for all the comments/kudos/views! Each one _always_ makes my day better.

All things considered, the night wasn’t a complete waste.

Everyone else - for the exception of Marco, who Jean was adamant about defending - was forced to step up and participate in at least one round of sparring. Bertholt lost to Annie, but it was clear that he wasn’t even trying. Connie put up a good fight, but Jean managed to best him in the end. Eventually Annie even dragged Armin into the middle of the floor to practice some basic tactics, to his flustered embarrassment. 

After Reiner and Bertholt had a humorously mismatched round that was more of a catfight than anything, Jean broke out the beer and started passing around bottles. He pressed one into Eren’s hand without looking at him, but was waved off when he offered a beer to Levi.

“I already had a couple with dinner,” said Levi. “If I have any more I’m not driving, and I’m sure as fuck not staying here with you morons all night.”

Jean shrugged off the insult and moved on, giving the beer to Armin instead. 

Eren popped the cap off the beer with little effort and took a sip. 

“Clearly you’ve done that a few times,” said Levi, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Just a few, yeah.”

“That’s a nice car you’ve got out there, captain,” said Reiner. He’d accepted the lack of seating and collapsed on the floor with his back against the side of the couch. “You’ve classed it up since you left us.”

“Captain works for corrections now,” scoffed Annie. She smirked at him from across the room. “There’s nothing classy about it. We clean the criminals off the streets and he puts them right back.”

“The court puts them right back,” said Levi. “I just babysit their asses until they fuck up again.”

“They should leave all of ‘em in jail,” said Reiner, toasting the idea with his half-empty bottle. “It’d make our job easier. I’ve arrested fucking Tommy Wagner six times this month and they keep letting him back out.”

“That’s not really a possibility with the way prisons are overcrowded,” said Marco. “There’s no room for them.”

“Then build more fucking prisons,” said Reiner. “You don’t have a horse in this race, Bodt. It’s not your problem anymore.”

It was just a statement, not touched by maliciousness. Marco flinched all the same.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Reiner,” snapped Jean. “He knows about this shit more than you do. He actually has a functional thought process. I’m surprised you communicate with words instead of grunts.”

“You weren’t saying shit like that when I had you on the ground, Kirschtein.”

“That sounded awkwardly sexual,” said Connie, looking between them over the rim of his beer. “Anything you want to tell us, Reiner?”

“Dude, if I was going to swing that way it wouldn’t be with Kirschtein. I’d want a real man. Like Bertholt.”

Bertholt slapped a hand over his face, embarrassed enough for the both of them.

“Come on, stop, I’m kidding,” said Reiner, tugging on Bert’s pant leg. “We’re partners, if we hooked up it would be weird anyway.”

“Oh my god, just stop talking.”

“So Eren,” said Connie, still grinning at Bertholt’s discomfort. “What’re you doing these days?”

Eren automatically shied away from the question. What was he supposed to say? The correct answer would have been ‘absolutely nothing’, but he couldn’t just say that. Luckily he was spared the trouble.

“He’s putting up with my shit,” said Levi. “That’s a full-time fucking job.”

Eren flinched when he felt Levi’s arm drape over the back of the couch, brushing the tops of his shoulders. He glanced around the room with wary eyes but no one seemed to care.

“You still got the Charger?” said Jean, emerging from his quiet murmurs with Marco to join their conversation.

“Oh, uh, no,” said Eren, staring down at his beer. “I sold it.”

“That’s a shame,” said Jean. “That car was badass.”

“It was better than that Metro you cruise around in.”

“Fuck off, Jaeger.”

Eren didn’t realize he was grinning until he felt Levi staring at him. The expression dropped off his face as soon as he noticed it was there.

“I’m need to piss,” said Levi, elegant as ever. He nudged Eren with his elbow. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” said Eren, and he was surprised to find he actually meant it. “I’m good.”

Levi nodded and pushed himself off the couch, pausing to stretch before pacing straight to the hallway as if he’d been there before. Eren supposed he probably had been.

Eren turned sideways to talk to Armin, but Reiner plopped down between them, blocking his view. Across the room Connie and Jean had initiated a heated debate about driving tactics. Reiner used the cover of their raised voices to say, quietly, “Hey, Jaeger?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Listen,” said Reiner, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening in. Annie had moved over to talk to Armin on the other end of the couch, so even they weren’t paying attention. “We did some pretty shitty stuff to you back in the day. To be fair, we didn’t know it was bothering you that much. Me and Annie, I mean. Jean did, I guess, but we didn’t know that at the time. We were just having a good time, you know? We didn’t mean anything by it. If I knew you were taking it that hard I would’ve stopped.”

Eren was floored by the admission. He knew he was supposed to say something in return, but his brain had suddenly short-circuited.

“Annie’s the same. She’s just not good with apologies and shit, you know? She feels bad too, though. Both of us do. We didn’t know until you quit, and after that it was too late.” He paused, expression hard. “Sorry about all that, Jaeger. I hope you don’t hold it against us. I really don’t give a fuck if you’re gay. I mean look at fucking Kirschtein. He flipped overnight and I still have to work with his rainbow ass.”

Eren tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his mouth edged up into a grin. “It’s okay,” he said, and he actually meant it. “No hard feelings.”

“Excellent,” said Reiner, slapping Eren on the back with a little too much force before standing. “You want another beer? Annie bought them, have as many as you want.”

“Stop giving away my shit, Reiner!” 

“Stop eavesdropping on my conversations, Annie!”

Eren glanced over at Armin, who had a hand pressed over his mouth to cover up his laughter. Armin had been his best friend for a long time, and Eren was glad to see that he was actually happy. Even if it took a harpy like Annie to make him that way.

Eren still didn’t see what the attraction was, but he figured some people might feel the same about him and Levi.

“Come on, brat, let’s go home. I’m exhausted.” Levi approached as Reiner moved away, their height difference laughable. Levi grabbed his coat off of the arm of the couch and Eren noticed that his boyfriend appeared somewhat smug. 

“Okay, sure,” said Eren, following his lead and standing. He left his beer sitting on the floor beside the couch. It was still half full, a small detail that he was quietly proud of. “It is getting kind of late.”

“Don’t duck out now, Jaeger,” said Jean. He’d had a few more beers and was getting even closer to Marco. Eren expected them to be sitting in each other’s laps anytime now. “We’re just starting to have fun.”

“You better not have _too_ much fun,” said Connie, throwing back the last of his own beer. “When you and freckles start eating each other’s faces I’m gone.”

Marco blushed at the suggestion, but Jean just aimed a backhanded slap at Connie’s chest. 

“Shut up, Springer, you’re just jealous that you haven’t been getting any.”

“You kids have fun,” said Levi, cutting through the argument and shoving Eren’s coat into his arms. “We have better things to do.”

Connie and Reiner made identical sounds of speculation, but Eren couldn’t be bothered. He, too, was focused on the implication. Did Levi mean what it sounded like he meant?

Eren exchanged a quick goodbye with Armin before following Levi out of the house, his pulse quickening as he slid into the Lexus. He watched Levi from the corner of his eye, following even the slightest movement. He sucked in a breath when Levi leaned forward to change the radio station and received a snort in response.

“Don’t have a heart attack, kid,” said Levi. “I’m just changing this shit music.”

When Levi started the car and pulled away from the curb, Eren said, “So are you dropping me back off at Mikasa’s, or…?”

Levi glanced at him before returning his attention to the road. When he spoke his tone was different, subdued. “I thought maybe you’d want to stay at my place tonight.”

Eren’s heart did a backflip.

Levi must have noticed some sort of reaction because he quickly clarified, “Just to sleep, so you don’t have to go home and interrupt your sister’s good time.”

Eren’s lip curled. “Don’t remind me.”

“We’re not going to fuck or anything,” said Levi bluntly. “I just thought it’d be nice to spend some more time together.”

“Sure,” said Eren. He traced the line of Levi’s jaw with his eyes, suppressing the urge to reach out and brush his fingers through dark strands of hair. “That’s cool, but I mean, if you wanted to do something else…”

“No, Eren.”

“But Levi…”

“You’re not ready.”

Eren groaned and sank down into the leather, his seatbelt threatening to choke him. He wrestled it away from his neck and said, “Not even just a little?”

“If you can explain to me what the hell that’s supposed to mean then I’ll think about it.”

Eren couldn’t, and he sulked all the way to Levi’s apartment.

He got over his bout of pouting as soon as he stepped into Levi’s townhouse. 

He’d been there before, so it wasn’t exactly a new experience. It felt different, though. He was more relaxed. The first time he’d been there he was overloaded with the stress of wondering if Levi liked him. The second time he’d walked in like he was reporting for a death sentence. Now it was just a calm, worry-free visit. One that would last until morning.

He felt a jolt of nerves at the thought, but it was contained pretty easily when he reminded himself that nothing was going to happen. He was just there to spend time with Levi. 

Levi just wanted to spend time with him.

The thought made him grin like an idiot, and Levi had to nudge him further into the room. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking exhausted,” said Levi, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack in the corner of the room. Eren followed his lead and put his own coat next to it. 

“I’m kind of tired, too,” said Eren, though he wasn’t certain that he would be able to sleep at all. 

“Come on, then, let’s go to bed.” Levi started unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward his bedroom, flipping the light on and disappearing inside without another word.

Although it was unmistakably an invitation, Eren was reluctant to follow. He’d never been in Levi’s room. It seemed like he was about to step across a personal boundary, one that Levi relentlessly guarded. He felt that by entering Levi’s room he was crossing a line in their relationship, one that led to something even more intimate than physical contact. 

Eren heard the metallic clink of Levi’s belt being unbuckled. That was motivation enough to get him across the threshold. 

The room was simple and sparsely decorated, much like the rest of Levi’s home. His bed was king-sized, draped in black and grays, with a matching rug curling beneath the stout bedposts. The dresser was black too, as was the nightstand, but the beige of the walls prevented the room from looking dreary. 

Levi tucked his belt into a designated dresser drawer and proceeded to finish unbuttoning his shirt, his back turned to Eren. When it was loose he let it fall off his shoulders and dropped it into an open laundry hamper that was neatly situated in the corner. 

“Enjoying the view?” said Levi without turning.

Eren wondered if he was staring so hard that Levi could just feel it. Then he realized that Levi could see his reflection in the dresser mirror. He forced himself to look away and tried not to flush. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re just distracting.”

Levi responded by shedding his pants and tossing them in with the button-up. He crossed the room toward Eren wearing only a white t-shirt and tight-fitting boxer briefs. Eren bit his lip and tried to keep his gaze from wandering further south. 

“I’m going to brush my teeth,” said Levi. He pressed a hand against the side of Eren’s face and pulled him into a quick, solid kiss. “Make yourself at home.”

Eren shamelessly watched him leave the room, wishing he’d stripped everything instead of just the exterior layers. When he was gone, Eren debated his own course of action. He couldn’t sleep in his clothes, but he wasn’t sure if he should take them off, either. Levi had strict rules in every other aspect of his life. Eren was sure they extended to what he allowed in his bed, too.

In the end, Eren decided to follow Levi’s example. He stripped down to his undershirt and his boxers, immeasurably relieved that he hadn’t worn the ones that were developing holes from overuse. He didn’t want to throw his clothes in with Levi’s, so he sufficed by leaving them in a small pile at the edge of the bed. He assumed that the far side was the one that Levi slept on because it was bordered by the nightstand. Curiously, Eren wandered over to it and perched on the edge of the mattress, studying the items on display. 

There was a basic lamp and the cord of a cell phone charger, but that wasn’t what caught Eren’s attention. At the edge of the nightstand was a framed picture, the only photograph that Eren had noticed in Levi’s home. 

He reached out and gripped the frame, bringing it closer for a better look. Levi was in the middle of the picture but he looked different than Eren had seen him. For one thing he was in uniform, and although Eren had never been able to picture Levi as a cop, it somehow worked. The biggest difference, though, was his expression. Levi was grinning, a true, genuine smile that lit up his eyes and made him look even younger than he must have been when the photo was taken. 

On each side of Levi was another officer, one of them a tall blonde man with an arm slung over Levi’s shoulders, the other a short, redheaded woman who leaned into Levi with a smile that was all teeth. 

Eren had never seen either of them at the PD. He wondered if they had quit at the same time as Levi, if they had all quit for the same reason. 

Eren wanted to know about the picture, but he had a strong feeling that it had something to do with the story that Levi didn’t want to tell. So he put the frame back, carefully arranging it at the same angle so Levi wouldn’t notice it had been tampered with.

“Those were my friends.”

Eren’s whipped his head around, startled, to find Levi watching him from the doorway. He stepped further into the room and circled the corner of the bed. When he stopped he put a hand on Eren’s shoulder, who relaxed beneath the weight of the touch. Levi picked up the frame and frowned at it, his expression the polar opposite of the Levi in the picture. 

“They look… umm, nice,” said Eren.

Levi snorted and put the photograph back. "Farlan and Isabel. We used to work together.”

“I’ve never seen them,” said Eren. “I guess they don’t work there anymore?”

He regretted the question when Levi’s frown deepened, the lines on his forehead threatening to crack his skull. “No, they don’t.”

“So are they-”

“Not tonight,” said Levi. His voice was firm but weary, lacking the bite that Eren expected. “I’ll tell you about them sometime, I promise. Just not tonight.”

“Okay,” said Eren, pleased that he’d gotten any information at all. 

Levi raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to keep prying. When it was clear that he was actually backing down from the subject, Levi stepped back to appreciate him.

“If I’d known you looked that good in your underwear I would’ve had you sleep over sooner.”

Eren’s face was so hot that he feared it had caught fire.

“Shut up,” he said, rubbing at his jaw. “Look at you, you’re chiseled like a fucking god.”

Levi looked down at himself. Then he lifted up the hem of his shirt, revealing a solid washboard of abs. “You mean this?”

Eren swallowed so he wouldn’t literally drool onto Levi’s floor. “Yeah, that.”

Levi shrugged and let his shirt fall back into place. “I work out a lot.”

“No shit.”

“You’re on my side,” said Levi, tugging on Eren’s arm until he stood. “Move around.” Levi seized the edge of the sheets and yanked them down, adjusting the nest of pillows at the top of the bed. He moved over to the light switch while Eren crawled onto the mattress nervously, still a little unsure of the situation. He was comfortable with Levi, but this was something he hadn’t experienced before. Were they supposed to sleep close together, or did Levi expect him to stay on his own side? Did Levi sleep calmly, or was Eren in danger of getting thrashed in the face halfway through the night?

The lights went out and Eren felt the mattress compress as Levi climbed into bed. His worries were assuaged as he felt Levi’s grasping fingers spread over his arm, pulling him into the center. “C’mere, brat,” mumbled Levi. Eren complied, allowing himself to be maneuvered onto his side. Levi wriggled against him, his back against Eren’s chest, and draped Eren’s arm over his waist. 

Eren breathed in the scent of Levi’s hair, pulling him as close as possible. One of Levi’s legs moved, tangling with Eren’s. Eren grinned against the back of Levi’s head and whispered, “Are we spooning right now?”

“Are you complaining about it?”

“No, not at all. I’m just surprised you want to be the little spoon.”

“Shut up and hold me.”

Eren swallowed his laugh and did as he was told, wrapping himself around Levi and soaking in his boyfriend’s warmth.

“Goodnight, Levi,” he said, the words quiet.

“’Night, Eren. See you in the morning.”

Eren didn’t want the morning to come. He nestled more closely against Levi and wished the night would last forever. 

If he’d ever been more comfortable in his entire life, he certainly couldn’t remember it.


	39. Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, let's be real. This is shameless smut and I won't apologize.

By two o’clock that morning everyone had cleared out of Annie’s house, with a few exceptions. Armin was staying for the night, which was unsurprising. Annie had also labeled Jean as too drunk to drive home. Marco was probably sober enough, but he’d had a couple of beers and didn’t want to risk driving. With a huff and a flat expression, Annie told the two of them that they could stay in her guest bedroom.

“But if you fuck on my bed,” she said, “I’ll kill you both.”

Fifteen minutes after she’d made the statement, Jean and Marco decided to fuck on her bed. 

“Oh my god, you brought lube with you?” said Marco, gaping as Jean produced the bottle from his pocket. “Did you plan this?”

“I’m not even drunk. What do you think?”

“You always say that.” Marco was sitting in the exact center of the mattress with his legs folded beneath him, watching Jean strip off his shirt. 

“This time I’m serious.” Jean tossed the lube onto the bed and crawled onto the mattress, shuffling forward until he was directly in front of Marco. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together. When he broke away he said, “I’ve been carrying around the same beer all night. I just kept pretending to go get new ones.”

“But why? We could do this at your place. Or mine.”

“I want to come on Annie’s sheets and see how long it takes her to notice,” said Jean with a wicked grin that made Marco’s face heat up. “I want her to have to think about us fucking every time she walks in the room.”

Marco hid behind his hands, groaning. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I like fucking with her,” said Jean simply. He lightly gripped Marco’s wrists and pried his hands away. “Hey, don’t do that. Your face is too perfect to hide.”

“Stop it,” said Marco, looking away.

“Stop what?”

“How are you doing this?” asked Marco. “I mean, when I’m just with you it’s fine, but like earlier… Everyone knows we’re together now. And you were sitting with your arm around me and you know they were looking, and how does it just not bother you?”

“It just doesn’t. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Well yeah, I guess.” Marco scooted back a little. Being so close to Jean was making it harder for him to think clearly. “When we were at the bar and you were apologizing to Eren you were really uncomfortable with it. You told that story about your dad, and it makes sense why you would be, but tonight you just didn’t care at all.”

“They’re our friends,” said Jean. He noticed Marco’s discomfort and sat back on his heels, giving him space. “They thought it was weird at first, but they’re fine with it now. I work with all of these people, Marco. I would trust any of them with my life, and I do daily. They have my back. I’m not worried about it.”

“You’re not embarrassed at all?”

Jean shrugged. “Nah. I mean, think about it. Annie’s nailing Armin right now. If she’s not embarrassed to fuck that little blonde dork then I’m not embarrassed fucking someone who looks like you.”

Marco flushed darkly and stared down at the sheets beneath him. “What if I want to fuck you instead?” he asked quietly.

Jean was quiet for a minute. Marco wanted to raise his head and look at him but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was afraid of what he would see.

Finally Jean said in a low voice, “Then you should tell me.”

When he made himself lift his eyes, he found Jean staring directly back, with no hint of the judgment or distaste that Marco had expected. 

“Okay, then can I?”

“Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Marco smiled a little. “Is this about the confidence lesson again? Because I’m not a cop anymore, it doesn’t matter.”

“It still matters, no matter what you do. Confidence is important. That’s why I’m not embarrassed. I’ve decided I’m confident that you’re what I want and if anyone thinks that’s wrong they can go fuck themselves.”

Marco blinked up at him, overwhelmed that Jean was actually proud to be with him. It was still a little strange to think about, but he knew that Jean was right. Marco knew what he wanted. It was his life, and Jean’s; no one else’s.

He took a deep breath and tried to draw together the confidence that Jean kept talking about.

“I want to fuck you,” he said, he voice a little shaky.

“What you want doesn’t matter,” said Jean. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

Marco swallowed and tried to exude confidence. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Jean’s smirk was pure lust. “Then shut up and do it, Bodt.”

Marco’s stomach lurched as he leaned forward and captured Jean’s mouth with his own, kissing him with all the ferocity he could muster. Tentatively, he nudged Jean downward until he was lying on his back, Marco straddling his hips. Marco trailed searching fingers across Jean’s jaw, down his neck and his collarbone and along the hard lines of his stomach. He broke away from the kiss and pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. For a moment he was self-conscious as Jean’s gaze traveled his freshly bared upper body, drinking him in. But then Jean pulled him back down and kissed him with a renewed fervor, and any lingering discomfort was quickly forgotten. 

They explored each other’s mouths for a while, tongue gliding against tongue. Marco waited for Jean to initiate the next step, as he always did. Eventually he pulled away and looked down at Jean, wiping a string of saliva off of his lips with the back of his wrist. 

Jean spoke before he could say anything. “What are you waiting for, Bodt?”

The question had the edge of a challenge, warped by the smirk that was again twisting Jean’s face. Breathless, Marco inched back until he had access to the front of Jean’s blue jeans. He wrenched the button open, slid down the zipper, and pulled them down as Jean raised his hips. As soon as the pants hit the floor Marco was being flipped over, landing on his back with a gasp as Jean kissed his way down Marco’s stomach, undoing his jeans in the process. When he yanked them off, though, he took Marco’s boxers at the same time. His erection sprung free, curving up over his stomach. 

“No fair,” said Marco, sitting up and tugging at Jean’s boxers in return. They slid down easily, and then Jean was back on top of Marco, their cocks rubbing together with delicious friction.

Marco stifled a moan and flung a hand out to the side, fingers exploring the sheets, searching. Jean realized what he was doing and flopped onto the bed beside him, giving Marco enough space to find the bottle of lube that had been discarded. He looked down and it and then looked at Jean, who was reclining with his arms behind his head, perfectly at ease.

“You sure about this?” asked Marco.

“Do I look sure? There are condoms in the pocket of my jeans, too, if you want to use one.”

Slightly relieved, Marco edged to the end of the mattress and reached over the side, snagging the leg of Jean’s pants. 

“Nice ass,” commented Jean, making Marco flush even more.

“Stop it.”

“Just being honest.”

Marco retrieved one of the foil squares and crawled back over to Jean. He placed the condom carefully on one of the pillows so he would be able to find it easily. Then, slowly, he twisted the cap off of the lube.

“You look like you’re about to climb the gallows,” said Jean. “I can prep myself if you want.”

“No, I want to do it.”

He was hyperaware of Jean’s gaze on him as he squeezed a palmful of lube into his hand and worked it over his fingers. He slid up beside Jean and kissed him again, just so he would stop looking at him. Cautiously, he reached between Jean’s legs, hand grazing his cock, and pressed a probing finger against his entrance. He felt Jean’s intake of breath and he hesitated, pulling back a little. 

“Are you sure, Jean? If you don’t want to--”

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m doing it myself.”

The words were abrasive, but Marco could see the hunger in Jean’s eyes, the lusty need. He was met with slight resistance as he slid in his index finger, but as soon as it was inside him Jean squeezed his eyes closed and bit down on a moan. Encouraged by the response, Marco moved his finger around, trying to loosen up the band of muscle so he could open him up wider. 

When Jean’s hips started moving impatiently Marco wedged a second finger inside. Jean bit his lip, and his expression made Marco’s cock twitch. He pushed in as far as he could, twisted his fingers, curled them, and felt Jean shudder beneath him. Jean’s hips bucked up into the sensation, his hands clenching in Annie’s sheets. “Fucking Christ, Marco,” he hissed. “Do that again.”

Marco obliged, and was rewarded with a low, husky moan and another lunge of Jean’s hips. He took the opportunity to ease a third finger inside, and felt Jean constricting around him.

“Your ass is so tight,” Marco whispered, unsure of where the words came from, unaware of why they touched his lips. “God, it’s so tight.”

“Fuck,” Jean muttered in response, gripping the back of Marco’s neck and meeting him halfway. His teeth caught Marco’s lip, digging gently into the soft flesh, tongue prodding. Marco slid his fingers almost all the way out, the pushed them back in, repeating the motion a few times until Jean panted against his lips. “Fuck me, Marco.”

It was a request that he couldn’t even consider denying. He withdrew his fingers and reached for the condom that he’d laid aside, clumsily tearing the foil square open. Jean watched him closely as he rolled the condom on, then drizzled some more lube into his hand and stroked his cock a couple of times.

He moved between Jean’s legs, one hand on the base of his cock, the other planted on the mattress beside Jean’s shoulder. He pressed against Jean’s entrance and paused. He opened his mouth to speak but Jean didn’t give him the chance.

“Marco, I swear to god, you’d better not ask me if I’m sure again.”

Since that was exactly what he’d been preparing to do, Marco clamped his mouth shut and guided himself into Jean’s slick ass. 

He did it slowly, afraid of causing any pain, but the sounds that Jean was making definitely did not reflect discomfort. Apparently he was being a little too gentle. Jean wrapped his legs around Marco and forced him all the way in, the two of them crying out in unison as Marco was buried to the hilt. 

Marco flung out his other hand, suddenly needing both arms to support himself. He was breathing heavily, nearly in sync with the pants that huffed from Jean’s mouth. “You know,” said Jean, his voice throaty, “I kind of like having you on top. You’re hot as fuck.”

Marco responded to the compliment by pulling out and then slamming back into Jean’s ass, harder than he meant to. Jean threw his head back, his body arching. 

“Sorry,” muttered Marco, sliding back a little. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no, do it again,” said Jean, his hands sliding down Marco’s back. “Fuck me hard.”

Marco accommodated the request. He set a rhythm, his hips rocking back and forth, ramming into Jean with as much force as he could muster. Stinging trails burned down his back as Jean dragged his nails into flesh, too lost to realize what he was doing. 

“Fuck,” Jean gasped, reaching down to grip his cock. “Fuck, Marco, fuck.”

Marco couldn’t respond. He was too busy trying not to come, to make himself last long enough to satisfy Jean. It wasn’t easy. Just the thought of being surrounded by Jean’s heat, filling him up and making him moan, was nearly enough to send him spiraling. He gritted his teeth and kept going, trying to hold out, trying to wait just a little bit longer…

“Fuck, fuck, Marco. _Marco_!” Jean shouted his name as he pumped his cock. Marco felt Jean constrict around him, tightening as he came, and couldn’t wait any longer.

“Jean,” he breathed, much more quietly. “Oh my god, _Jean_ …”

He stayed buried in Jean’s ass as he came, hips still pushing forward as he rode out the orgasm. He collapsed beside Jean when he was finished, not certain that he even had the energy to get cleaned up.

When his breathing had mostly evened out, he turned his head to find Jean already looking at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jean raised his head just enough to kiss him then fell back. “I just… like you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I like you too. Obviously.”

Jean chuckled, then forced himself to sit up. “My ass feels wrecked. How long does that last?”

Marco shrugged, the most movement that he could manage. “Not too long.”

“I tried to aim over there,” said Jean, hitching a thumb toward the other side of the bed. “That’s where most of it landed. As long as we sleep right here it’s fine. Then we’ll just make the bed back up like nothing happened and see if she bothers checking tomorrow.”

“That’s kind of a dick move,” said Marco, but the words were wrapped with a smile.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m nothing if not a dick.” He carefully climbed over Marco and padded to the bathroom door, his gait unsteady. 

Despite Marco’s reluctance to move, he convinced himself to scoot to the edge of the bed and sat up, feet brushing the carpet. He slid the condom off carefully, then followed Jean to the bathroom. 

Jean was standing in front of the mirror, wiping himself off with a wad of toilet paper. Marco dropped the condom into the small garbage can and followed his example, ridding himself of cum and lube. A shower would have probably been more practical, but Marco was so exhausted he wasn’t certain he could stay awake. He would probably doze off and drown.

A few minutes later he and Jean were again nestled in Annie’s bed, curled up on the far edge to avoid the damp spots that Jean had sprayed on the sheets. Marco’s chest was pressed against Jean’s back, one arm draped over his waist. He nestled into Jean’s hair, eyes already closed.

“Goodnight, Jean.”

“’Night, Marco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new side chapter has been posted. It takes place directly after this one and you can check it out [ Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4168149/chapters/11359642).


	40. Gift

Eren’s phone started ringing at 8:30 on Monday morning. He had woken up briefly when Mikasa had left around an hour before, but had dropped back into sleep as soon as she’d stepped out the door. Now, with the blare of the generic ringtone startling him back into consciousness, he was suddenly wide awake.

He reached for his pocket, realized his phone wasn’t there, and flailed around, searching for it. It was finally discovered between two of the couch cushions but by the time he’d unearthed it the call had been directed to voicemail. He experienced a surge of excitement and apprehension when he saw that the call had been from Levi.

Levi never called him that early. Eren’s first thought was that something had happened, that something was wrong. His movements were still a little uncoordinated from sleep, and by the time he had pulled up Levi’s name in his contacts his phone started ringing again.

He answered it quickly and pressed it against his ear. “Levi, hey, is everything alright?”

“You sound like shit. You were asleep, weren’t you?”

Eren sighed, relieved. That was a normal greeting from Levi. “Yeah, but it’s fine. What’s up?”

“I’m in court all day, so I’m just waiting for this shitfest to start,” said Levi dully. “The docket is ridiculous today. Eight pages just for the morning session, and seven more for the afternoon. I was going to ask you to meet me for lunch but I’m thinking I probably won’t get an actual lunch break.”

Eren waited for him to continue, wondering why he’d called. If he had already known that he wasn’t going to get a lunch hour then why had he bothered? 

“Okay…” said Eren when it was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything further. “So why are you calling me? I mean, not that I mind. I like talking to you, but you never just call me for no reason.”

“Yeah, well, I have something for you. I wanted to make it special when I gave it to you, but that’s turned to shit. Can you meet me at noon? I can get someone to cover for me for a few minutes, even if we don’t stop for a break.”

“I can,” said Eren, “but wouldn’t it just be easier to wait until after? We can go to dinner or something.”

“That would be nice but I’ll be here all fucking night,” said Levi, audibly irritated. “I doubt I’ll get to leave before seven, and you need to have it before then. It’s time sensitive.”

The fact that Levi had something to give him was curious enough, but what could it possibly be that could be classified as time sensitive? Eren couldn’t think of a single possibility that fit the criteria.

“Uh, okay, sure. Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Just be out front,” said Levi. “There are some benches and a fountain and shit, I’ll meet you out there. I don’t want you to have to walk over here, I’d rather come by and pick you up, but--”

“But you don’t have time,” Eren finished. “It’s fine, I get it. I’ll be there.”

“Alright, well I have to go.”

“Hang on,” Eren said quickly. 

“What?”

“Is it… something bad?” asked Eren, hoping that he didn’t sound as uncertain as he felt. 

“Of course not. Well… probably not. It’s open to interpretation.”

“Can you just tell me what it is?”

“No. Eren, I really have to go. I’ll see you, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“…okay. Bye, Levi.”

“Bye, kid.”

Twelve o’clock seemed like a lifetime away.

Eren laid back down on the couch and pulled the blanket over his head, attempting to sleep for another hour or two, but it was in vain. He gave up and slouched into the kitchen for a bowl of Mikasa’s cereal that tasted only slightly better than cardboard. After that he took a shower, picked through his clothes until he found jeans and a t-shirt that were free of holes, and sat back down on the couch. 

It was 8:51.

  
  
  


After two hours of lying impatiently on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, and driving himself to the edge of madness trying to figure out what Levi could possibly have for him, Eren just couldn’t take any more. He heaved himself to his feet, staggering slightly, and plopped down on the floor next to the front door to pull on his shoes. The sneakers were still drab and overly worn, but didn’t have any options. They were the only pair he had that weren’t cheap flip flops, and it would be another month or two before he could even think about wearing those without the fear of his toes becoming frostbitten.

He remembered the sturdy black work boots that had been polished to perfection, the ones that he’d been forced to turn in with the rest of his gear when he’d quit the PD. Those were the best fucking shoes he’d ever had.

With a sigh he pulled on his coat, zipped it up, and left the apartment. 

It was too soon to start walking to the courthouse to be there at noon. It would take a maximum of half an hour to get there on foot, and if he got there early he would still be left waiting. Still, it was better to wait there than sit around Mikasa’s apartment and obsess over every inconsequential word that Levi had said to him that morning.

He chose to take the long way, even though it would only add about ten minutes to his travel time. It wasn’t until he reached Magnolia Street that he realized the long way took him directly past the seedy bar that sat much too close to the apartment for his comfort, the bar where he may or may not have snorted some derivative of an illegal drug. He was grateful that he remembered nothing about that night, but also angry at himself for plunging into such a pitiable situation. 

He wouldn’t let it happen again. No matter how often he felt the urge to surrender and again give himself over to the ignorant bliss of an alcoholic coma, he wouldn’t do it anymore. Eren knew that Levi wouldn’t put up with such stupid behavior, and he didn’t blame him. He was really just surprised that Mikasa and Armin had stuck with him so long. He hadn’t been pleasant company for a while. Hell, he still probably wasn’t, but he felt like he was improving. At least he could function normally now. He’d even spent an evening with his old shift, the ones who had been responsible for initiating his period of self-destruction. It had been uncomfortable at first, but none of them had even offered to make any snide comments about his sexuality. He supposed they no longer could since Jean was now acting gayer than Eren ever had. 

He grinned a little at that as he stepped onto the street that officially marked the beginning of the downtown sector. 

Jean had seemed happy, and so had Marco, although Eren couldn’t imagine why. Part of him wanted to be bitter that Jean had suffered no real repercussions after suddenly deciding that maybe he wasn’t completely straight, considering all that Jean had put him through. Eren couldn’t bring himself to be too angry, though. He was glad that Jean had been accepted by the shift. Everyone deserved acceptance, no matter how big of a dick they were.

That still didn’t mean he’d forgiven him, though.

Eren stopped at the foot of the steep white steps that led to the courthouse. He checked the time; 11:44. No one was coming out of the span of glass doors, so he assumed that the morning court was still in session. 

Eren climbed the stairs and branched off to the left, toward the sitting area that Levi had indicated. It was just a small cluster of benches grouped around a decorative fountain, all of them unoccupied. The ceramic bowl of sand between the benches suggested that it was the designated area for smoke breaks. 

Since he had no cigarettes or any desire to smoke one, Eren just sat on the edge of one of the wrought iron benches to wait. He thought about putting his hood up to keep the cold air off of his neck and his ears, but decided against it. Law enforcement officials frequented the courthouse, and he didn’t want them to get the impression that he was lurking around like a thug-wannabe street kid. If he’d still been an officer and had seen himself sitting there with a hood pulled around his face he’d be suspicious, too.

About ten minutes later a few people started filtering out of the building. They were all dressed in clothing that made Eren look like a street urchin. Most of them just stood outside the doors, whipping out their cell phones and texting or chatting away. Several approached Eren and stood in a familiar group, lighting cigarettes and engaging in quiet conversation as far away from Eren as they could manage while staying within reach of the sand-filled pot that served as an ashtray. 

Eren was eyeing them, trying to pick up on what they were saying so he could figure out if court had been dismissed, when Levi dropped onto the bench beside him. He wore black on black, in complete compliance with the professional dress code. Eren was staring at Levi’s tie, envisioning himself wrapping his hand around the silk and yanking Levi in for a kiss, when fingers snapped in front of his face.

“Hey, kid. You with me?”

Eren blinked and refocused on Levi’s face. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“…I’ll show you later.”

Levi raised an inquiring eyebrow but chose not to comment. 

“How’s court?” asked Eren, feeling like it was the appropriate question.

“It’s a bitch. They still haven’t finished the morning docket. The judge just stepped off the bench for a break.” Levi pulled his sleeve back and checked his watch. “I have about twenty minutes.”

“Too bad we couldn’t have lunch together,” said Eren, scuffing his shoes against the concrete. “I kind of want to go back to that café. The one we went to a while back, remember?”

“Of course I remember, don’t be stupid.” He leaned back and stretched his arms over the back of the bench. Eren could barely feel Levi’s sleeve brush against the back of his coat. “What are your plans for the day?”

“This,” Eren shrugged. “Nothing else, really. I was hoping to meet up with you at the bar later but since you’re going to be working late I guess I’ll shoot for tomorrow.”

“I’ll try to go anyway,” said Levi, “Even though it might be fucking nine o’clock before I make it there. I want to spend time with you while I still can.”

Eren tried to puzzle out what he meant by that, and every possibility paved the way for a fresh wave of panic. Was Levi going somewhere? Was he moving? Was he sick? 

Was Levi breaking up with him? 

Eren tried to keep his voice calm as he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Levi sighed, his brow creasing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I told myself I wouldn’t, but here we fucking are.” He dipped a hand into the pocket of his blazer, wrapping his fingers around something within. “Remember we’re in public,” said Levi, “and I work with all these people. Try not to make a scene, okay?”

Numbly, Eren nodded. His mind was racing so quickly that he was a little dizzy. 

Levi withdrew his hand and held out his hand, an item resting flatly in his palm. Eren stopped breathing.

It wasn’t anything that he’d been thinking. It was something he never would have expected, and he couldn’t figure out why Levi would even have it.

“What are you doing with that?” 

“It’s yours, genius,” Levi said, hand still outstretched. Cradled in his palm was a metal badge, one that Eren was all too familiar with. It had the crest of the city engraved on it, and along the bottom it read, in bold letters, ‘CITY POLICE’. 

Eren almost reached for it but stopped himself, keeping his hands trapped in his pockets. He swallowed, gaze unwavering. “I don’t understand.”

Levi sighed and dropped his hand, keeping the badge in a firm grip. “Remember at Annie’s when Marco told us he quit the PD? Well they have a spot open now, and it’s yours if you want it. Erwin’s been hounding me about it ever since that shit that happened at his place.”

“But Marco just quit, like, last week.”

“Yeah, well, it was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to make it,” said Levi. “Erwin was sketching out a backup plan. He said you were good at the job and he wanted you back. Hell, if he’d known what was going on at the time he would’ve fixed it. If you’d just gone to him and told him about it he would’ve made sure Kirschtein never said another fucking word.”

Eren just stared at him, mind blank. “I don’t understand,” he repeated.

“Come on, kid, you’re not an idiot. Do you want the job or not?”

“I can’t,” said Eren, the words an automatic response. “I can’t go back there, not after what happened.”

“What, you mean your shift giving you hell about being gay?” said Levi, words twisted with skepticism. “Last time I checked, they no longer give a fuck. You seemed to be getting along pretty well a couple of nights ago. Now that Jean’s come out of the closet with an explosion of fucking rainbows your problems are old news.”

With that statement, belated recognition slid into place. “You did that on purpose,” said Eren, the words edged with accusation. “You made me go to Annie’s so you I’d have to see them, because you knew that’s what I would say.”

Levi shrugged. “It worked out, didn’t it?”

Eren wanted to be angry, but couldn’t dredge up the offended feelings that he desired. He stared down at the concrete between his feet, brows knit together in thought. “But if I was a cop,” he said, “would you still want to date me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t like the police. So why would you want me to be one of them?”

It took Levi too long to reply, and when Eren looked up at him he saw the reluctance in Levi’s expression. “Honestly?” said Levi, leaning back on the bench and staring sightlessly at the fountain. “I don’t. I don’t want to date a cop. I know what it’s like to do the job, so I know what you would be going through every day. I know that you might not make it home, and it scares the shit out of me.” He paused, then turned his head to meet Eren’s gaze. “So when Erwin mentioned it I told him to go fuck himself. I told him you weren’t going back to his shitty police department.”

“Then why are you even telling me this?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re made for it, kid.” Levi smiled, but it was tangled, bitter. “You’re a fucking natural. Even I can’t deny that. It’d be a shame for you to walk away from it when you could do the job better than half the idiots on the force.”

“How would you even know that? You’ve never seen me do anything like…” he trailed off, mind pinging as even more pieces started coming together. “That’s why you let me drive your car. It wasn’t a game, you were testing me.”

Levi didn’t deny it. “You’re a good driver. You were good with that drunk asshole at the bar too. I expected you to just knock him the fuck out and be done with it, but you surprised me.” 

“Wait, what about the fight at Annie’s? Was that a test? Did she help you set that up?”

“No, it was just a good opportunity,” said Levi. “By that point I’d already almost changed my mind, but I was still worried about you. Now I’m pretty confident you can take care of yourself. You’re a fairly good fighter, but you could do better. I’ll train with you if you want.”

“If you had decided you didn’t want me to be a cop again,” said Eren slowly, “would you have even told me about this? Would you have told chief that I didn’t want the job and just pretended he’d never mentioned it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Erwin swore you were good at the job, but I didn’t want to believe him. Now that I’ve seen a little bit of it firsthand I can’t really deny it.”

“So you want me to do it,” said Eren. “You want me to take my job back.”

“I want you to do whatever the fuck you want. Whatever it is, though, I’m here for you. That sounds like the biggest damn cliché that I’ve ever heard, but it’s true. I’ve got your back, kid.” 

Levi extended his arm, offering the badge once more. 

Eren stared at it, apprehensive, as if he expected it to lash out and bite him. He tried to weigh his choices, to decide which would work out best for him in the end, but even before he started he knew it was pointless.

All he’d ever wanted was to be a police officer. Some of his best times had happened in uniform, even though that accounted for such a small percentage of his life. He didn’t need the tests that Levi had given him. He knew he was good at being a cop. Great, even. If he hadn’t been shamed to such a degree that he felt completely useless as a human being he never would’ve considered quitting to begin with.

He took the badge from Levi’s hand, running his fingers over its pressed face. It was still warm from Levi’s touch. 

“You can pick up your gear tomorrow,” said Levi, voice muted. “Erwin will help you get your uniforms and shit out of storage. You’ll start the night shift on Wednesday.”

“This is really happening.”

“Yeah, it’s happening.”

Eren tore his eyes away from the badge and settled them on Levi’s face. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Sure I do, that’s why I told Erwin I’d talk to you about it. I didn’t want anyone else to see that look on your face.”

“What look?”

Levi brushed his fingers over Eren’s cheek, so briefly that it barely even happened. “That look. The one like the sun’s coming out after years of night. The one like someone just gave you a fucking puppy.”

The analogy made Eren grin, and the way his mouth stretched felt genuine. 

“You’re fucking adorable,” said Levi, his own lips curving slightly. 

“Thank you,” said Eren. “Not for that, for this.” He brandished the badge, the sun reflecting off of the bronze surface. “I never thought I would get another chance. I just… Thank you, Levi.”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s not a huge deal.”

“Yeah, it is. It really is.” Eren tucked the badge into the pocket of his coat and then reached toward Levi, tracing the line of his jaw with a fingertip. He’d already said it, but he repeated it for emphasis because he didn’t think Levi understood. “You don’t know how much this means to me, Levi.” He smoothed his fingers over Levi’s skin and brushed at the longer strands of hair that reached his temples. 

Levi gently wrapped his fingers around Eren’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “We’re in public,” he muttered. “People are watching.”

“Does it bother you?” said Eren. “You work with them and they know you. Does it bother you if they know you like me? If they know we’re together?”

“I don’t give a fuck what they know,” said Levi, blunt and sincere. “You want to keep it between us, though, and that’s fine. Whatever makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Eren knew there were people around, and he knew it was likely that most of them were watching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because despite how he felt about being gay, despite what insecurities he harbored, he was absolutely certain that he could never be ashamed of Levi. 

He rested a hand on the side of Levi’s neck and kissed him shamelessly. His lips were cold but his breath was hot, and the sensation was exhilarating. It was with reluctance that he pulled away, and with surprise that he realized he felt nothing nearing self-consciousness as a result of the handful of people who were openly gaping at the pair of them. Levi appeared surprised at his boldness, but his mouth curved a little as he said, “You know what? Fuck the bar. When I get to leave this hellhole I’ll come pick you up. You can stay at my place again tonight. Assuming you want to.”

Eren immediately knew what he was offering. This time he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with a night of cuddling. Even so, he didn’t experience a shred of uncertainty when he responded. “Yeah, I definitely fucking want to.”


	41. Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you requested more awkward smut? No? 
> 
> You're getting it anyway.

Levi picked Eren up at seven-thirty. The ride to his place consisted of forced conversation and smothering sexual tension.

“So did you tell your sister about the PD?” asked Levi, trying to sound interested.

“Yeah, when she got home. She’s worried about it a little, but she was happy for me, too,” Eren said, fidgeting in his seat. He kept stealing glances at Levi, his eyes tracing the line of his jaw. When Levi caught him doing it and held his gaze for a moment too long than was probably safe for someone operating a vehicle, Eren looked pointedly out the window. There was a certain intensity in Levi’s eyes that made him feel a little too warm. “I told Armin, too, but he wasn’t really surprised. Apparently Annie already figured out chief was planning something.”

“Annie’s not an idiot,” commented Levi.

Eren had nothing to say to that, so they finished the trip in silence. By the time Levi parked outside his townhouse, Eren was feeling more than a little nervous. The high he had gotten off of Levi’s news was beginning to wane, replaced by the realization of exactly what he was about to do. He liked Levi, there was no question about that. He liked him more than he ever thought he would like anyone, maybe too much. But it was still a little intimidating to imagine exactly what was about to happen. Having Levi’s dick in his mouth was one thing, but having it elsewhere…

“Stop frowning, you’re going to get wrinkles,” said Levi, drawing Eren out of his thoughts.

“You don’t have them and your default expression is a frown.”

“I have good genes,” said Levi. “Are we going in or not?”

Eren realized they’d been sitting in the car for a few minutes too long. He nodded and obediently stepped out of the Lexus, pushing the door shut. He followed Levi to the front door, waited for him to unlock the townhouse, and then trailed after him as he entered. Eren removed his shoes without being asked and waited awkwardly for Levi to tell him what to do.

“What’s your problem?” snapped Levi. Eren winced from the heat behind the words. “If you don’t want to be here then--”

“No, it’s… it’s not that,” said Eren, staring at the floor beneath his feet. “I’m just… I don’t really know. What to do, I mean. I just don’t want to do it wrong.”

“What the fuck happened to you since this morning?” asked Levi, cocking his head to eye Eren. “You were all about it then. You should’ve just said you’re still not ready. You know I’m not going to push you.”

“I know that. I am ready, I want to do it. I just don’t want to do it wrong and disappoint you.” Eren turned away from the scrutiny and stared at the wall, unable to look at Levi any longer. He wanted him so badly that it was almost painful, but he was afraid that if he didn’t do what Levi expected, if he wasn’t good enough… 

Too many things had gone right that day. Expecting this to be perfect was just asking for too much.

“Fucking virgins,” muttered Levi, a hint of humor wrapping his tone. He gently curled his fingers around Eren’s arm, turning him back around. “Nothing you could do could possibly disappoint me,” he said. As he spoke he slipped his hands into Eren’s coat, carefully sliding it off of his shoulders. “Even if you’re awkward as hell, I don’t care. You know why?”

Eren shook his head as his coat crumpled to the floor. He tried to pick it, aware of Levi’s disdain for clutter, up but Levi held him in place. 

“Because you’re fucking perfect, kid. It doesn’t matter what you do because it’s you. Even if you just lay there it’ll still be the best fuck I’ve ever had. Got it?”

Eren felt his face burning, but when he tried to look away Levi gripped his chin, forcing him to hold his gaze. 

“Yeah,” Eren stammered. “Yeah, got it.”

“So if you want to do this,” said Levi, releasing Eren and turning away as he spoke, “then come the fuck on.” He started toward his bedroom, not bothering to check and see if Eren was following. As he passed through the doorway Eren saw Levi’s fingers move to the knot of his black tie, tugging at the silk. 

Eren swallowed hard and hustled after him, a hand flying to smooth down his hair as he trotted into the room. Levi was about to slip off his tie but Eren stopped him with an urgent, “Wait!” 

He approached as Levi stilled, remembering the urge that he had felt earlier that day, outside the courthouse. Now he could act on it.

He cautiously reached out for Levi’s tie. He wrapped the silk around his hand, curling it into a fist, and tugged Levi forward into a kiss. 

It was careful at first. Eren was still hesitant, uncertain. Sensing this, Levi reached around to squeeze Eren’s ass. He gasped, and Levi took the opportunity to slide his tongue between Eren’s lips, deepening the kiss. 

When Eren stopped being so cautious, when his motions became more self-assured, Levi gripped the front of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Eren went willingly, his back pressed into the plaster, kissing Levi like his life depended on it. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be self-conscious. It was difficult to think about that, though, when Levi’s tongue was in his mouth and his shirt was being torn off. 

Levi pulled back and Eren raised his arms obligingly. A quick yank left him bare-chested and Levi trailed his lips along Eren’s neck, traveling lower and ending with a gentle lick to Eren’s left nipple. 

Eren sucked in a breath as Levi stepped back, taking his tie off slowly in case Eren cared to stop him again. He draped it on his dresser and started popping open the buttons of his shirt, slowly working his way down, eyes not leaving Eren’s. 

Eren tried to be patient. He really did. 

After Levi took a torturous fifteen seconds to unhook the third button he couldn’t restrain himself. He stepped forward and seized the front of Levi’s shirt, tearing it open and yanking it off. He could practically feel the smugness radiating from Levi and knew that he’d done it intentionally, but Eren couldn’t help himself. 

His fingers started working at Levi’s belt, unbuckling it with much more success than he’d experienced the first time he’d tried. Shortly after that Levi’s pants hit the floor, and the undershirt he’d been wearing quickly followed. He was left standing in front of Eren in only a pair of red boxer briefs, the tight fabric hugging him snugly. Eren stared shamelessly at the semi-hard erection that was clearly visible through the form-fitting underwear.

He felt himself begin to get hard just standing there, and it was only intensified when Levi stepped forward to relieve him of his pants. 

“Lay down,” said Levi, nudging him toward the bed. “Get comfortable.”

Eren did as he was told, crawling onto the bed and hoping that the tent in his boxers didn’t make him look too desperate.

Levi waited until he was settled against the pillows arranged at the head of the bed before he crawled up beside of him. He trailed his fingers along Eren’s neck, smoothing them down his chest and stopping just above the band of his boxers. As he tucked his fingers beneath the elastic he pressed his mouth against Eren’s, relishing in the taste. He could tell that Eren had showered before being picked up. He could smell the shampoo in his hair, taste the cleanness as he ran his tongue over Eren’s earlobe. 

His hand snaked its way into Eren’s underwear and wrapped around him. Eren stiffened, sucking in a breath, but Levi’s lips were back, working against his mouth just as his hand worked at Eren’s cock. 

Eren was lost to the sensation for a full minute before he could make himself move. He reached out, fingers tracing the lines of Levi’s abs, dropping down to palm Levi’s hardening erection. Levi ground into his hand, hips rutting forward. 

Levi broke the kiss and stared down at Eren’s swollen lips. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he said, nipping at the line of Eren’s jaw before scooting back. He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and shuffled around. Eren couldn’t see what he was doing, but he was too distracted by the shape of Levi’s ass to pay much attention. When he crawled back over, Levi settled between Eren’s knees, running his hands along Eren’s thighs. He moved higher, hooking his index fingers into each side of Eren’s boxers. His eyes darted to Eren’s, looking for any indication of a protest. When he found none he slid them downward, Eren wriggling beneath him to assist in the process. When the boxers were on the floor, Levi reached for Eren’s cock, curved over his stomach, but Eren stopped him.

“No, wait,” he said, already short of breath. “You too.”

Levi rolled his eyes but obliged. He tucked his fingers into the band of his underwear and slowly slid them down over his hips. He slipped them all the way off and tossed them over his shoulder, unconcerned with where they landed. 

Eren watched with sharp eyes as Levi twisted open the bottle that he’d retrieved from his nightstand, drizzling his hand with lube. He leaned over Eren, waiting. 

“If you tell me to stop I will. We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” said Eren, shaking his head. He caught his lip between his teeth, and the gesture made Levi twitch.

“If you keep biting your lip like that I won’t give you a chance to say no. I’ll fuck you into next week and you won’t be able to stop me.”

Before Eren could respond he felt a finger pressing against his entrance, a gentle pressure that was completely foreign. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though, and as Levi slowly slipped in knuckle-deep Eren writhed beneath him. 

“Okay?” asked Levi shortly.

“Y-Yeah.”

Levi flexed his finger a little, stretching Eren’s muscles, enjoying the way that Eren squirmed beneath him. When he felt that Eren had been given enough time to acclimate to the invasion he pressed in another finger.

Eren bucked under him, cheeks flaming.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… just weird,” said Eren, breathless. “It just feels weird.”

“It does at first,” said Levi, lowering himself to breathe in Eren’s ear. “Once I have my cock buried in your ass you’ll feel differently.”

Eren shuddered at the suggestion, his lip again being caught between his teeth. Levi’s erection throbbed and he forced one more finger in, perhaps a little too soon.

Eren cried out and clutched at Levi’s shoulders, his grip solid. 

“Sorry,” Levi murmured, nuzzling at Eren’s neck until he relaxed. “I got carried away. You’re just so fucking adorable.”

“Stop,” panted Eren, his eyes closed tightly. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Okay, I’ll keep talking dirty then. I’m best at that anyway.”

“Not what I meant…”

“So you don’t want me to?”

“I don’t know what I want!” said Eren. His hands were still wrapped tightly around Levi’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I just— Oh fuck!”

Levi had curled his fingers and they brushed against just the right spot, sending Eren into a near spasm. 

“Still complaining, brat?”

“What the fuck was that? That was… fuck… do that again.”

“Say please.”

“Fuck you. Just fucking do it, you fucking—Fuck!”

His hips rolled forward, seeking friction. Levi folded over to lap at the tip of his cock, making Eren shiver. He waited another torturous moment before sliding his fingers out. Eren felt suddenly empty, vacant, wanting.

“You ready, kid?” asked Levi, tearing open a condom with a little difficulty since one of his hands was slick with lube. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Levi rolled the condom on with no issues, taking the time to squeeze out a little more lube and stroke it along his length. Eren’s eyes followed the motion, glued to Levi’s cock.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said quietly, crawling back between Eren’s legs and lining himself up. “I’ll stop.”

“Maybe I like if it hurts a little,” said Eren, the statement contrasting starkly with the shyness in his voice. 

“Then you’ll fucking love it.”

Levi pushed himself into Eren in one swift thrust, burying himself deep. Eren threw his head back and yelped, hands fisting in the sheets.

As desperate as Levi was to start pounding into Eren he kept himself in place and waited, watching the rise and fall of Eren’s chest and he tried to catch his breath.

“Still okay?”

“Stop asking me that, it’s awkward,” said Eren between gasping breaths. “What happened to the dirty talk?”

“I thought you said to stop.”

“I changed my mind. It makes this less weird.”

Levi wasn’t sure how that was logical, but he had no problem accommodating the request. He wrapped his hands around Eren’s hips, pushing himself in as far as he could possibly go. Eren groaned beneath the sensation and Levi said, “Fuck, you don’t know how good that feels. Your ass is so fucking tight, Eren. I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming.”

“No, stop,” said Eren, flinging an arm up to hide his face. “I changed my mind.”

“About the sex or the dirty talk?”

“What do you think?”

Levi slid out of Eren, giving him a moment to recover before gripping his hips and thrusting back inside. Eren cried out again, but this time his voice was lower, bordering on a moan. There were no more complaints, no protests, and Levi interpreted that as a flashing green light.

He tightened his grip and set a rhythm, keeping it slow enough so Eren could get used to the rocking motion. Eren kept his forearm over his eyes but his mouth hung slightly open, the occasional sound falling from his swollen lips.

“Go faster,” he finally said, peeking at Levi. 

Levi gladly obliged. He picked up the pace and the intensity, pounding into Eren with more force. Eren moaned, and the needy sound sent a shudder dancing along Levi’s spine. He shifted Eren’s hips upward and thrust in at an angle, seeking out the spot that would make Eren scream. It took him a couple of tries, but he knew exactly when he’d hit it.

Eren yelped and his back arched, hips grinding into Levi. “Oh fuck, Levi, ah…”

The words were formed mostly from a lingering moan that heated Levi up more than he thought was possible. He maintained his hold on Eren’s right hip and repositioned his other hand, wrapping it around Eren’s bouncing cock. He stroked in time with his thrusts, thriving on the obscene sounds that dribbled from Eren’s mouth. 

“Ah, ah, Levi… Levi, I… Fuck, Levi, fuck!” 

The disjointed syllables were the only warning before Eren’s body tightened and he sprayed strings of cum onto his stomach, clutching the sheets like he would float away without that anchor. His head was thrown back, jaw unhinged, and he looked absolutely wrecked.

Levi slammed into him a few more times, Eren’s body tight around him, and plunged into his own orgasm. His nails dug into Eren’s hips as he came, jaw clenched, gaze not leaving Eren’s face.

He pulled out slowly when he finished, falling onto the bed beside Eren. For a moment they laid there in companionable silence, trying to catch their breath. Levi couldn’t stop staring at Eren, who looked so utterly fucked.

“Any complaints?” Levi asked, gently pushing Eren’s hair away from his sweaty forehead.

“Nope,” said Eren simply, mouth curving into a smile. 

“Good. Let’s go get cleaned up so we can do it again.”


	42. Home

When Eren woke up, he knew it was much too early.

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. He just rolled over and decided that he would sleep for another couple of hours. He didn’t know why he would wake up so early anyway. For him, noon was too early.

Then he registered the smell of coffee and knew why he was awake. Mikasa didn’t drink coffee. 

He cracked his eyes open to find himself in Levi’s room, illuminated by the pale light of morning, and smiled. Despite the early hour he rubbed at his eyes and sat up. He was alone in the bed, but he didn’t feel lonely. He felt warmer than he had in a long time. 

All he wanted to do was drag Levi back into bed and stay there all day, but it was Tuesday. Levi had to work and Eren had to go pick up his gear because he had a job now, too. He shifted to the edge of the bed, hoping that the hardwood floors wouldn’t be too cold on his bare feet. Before his toes even touched the floor his eyes caught the framed picture on Levi’s nightstand, the one he’d noticed the last time he’d spent the night. It was the one of Levi as an officer, flanked by his two friends, looking happier than Eren had ever seen him. He wondered what it would take to make Levi smile like that again. He would like to see it. He would like to be the cause of it.

“That was over ten years ago,” said Levi, “when I first got hired.”

Eren whipped his head around, startled, and found Levi watching him from the doorway, a mug of coffee in hand. He was already partially ready for work, his button-up hanging open and his tie draped over the back of his neck. 

Twenty questions sprang to Eren’s mind, all of them vying to be voiced. He knew that Levi didn’t want to talk about it; he’d made that perfectly clear. “You look… happy,” he said instead. It seemed an innocent enough statement. 

Levi snorted and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Eren. He appraised the picture without changing his expression, sipping his coffee before he spoke. “When I was got promoted to captain they were on my shift for a while,” he said. “Farlan was one of the best officers I’ve seen. Isabel wasn’t bad either. She just had a hard time taking things seriously.” 

“She looks really young,” said Eren, eyes straying back to the redheaded girl’s face. “Almost too young to be a cop.”

“She was barely twenty-one when she got hired on. Luckily Farlan had enough maturity for the both of them.” Something touched his face, perhaps a flutter of nostalgia. “They worked so well together that when Farlan decided to transfer to Vice, Isabel just went along with him. They did undercover work and they busted more dealers than anyone else in the department combined.”

Eren wanted Levi to finish the story, pleased that he was finally sharing, but at the same time he was afraid. If Levi had been so fond of the two that he had their photo in his bedroom, in a home that was otherwise void of pictures, he would still be in contact with them. Eren would have met them, or at least heard about them. “What happened?” whispered Eren, the words barely a flutter in the still air. 

Levi studied his coffee more thoroughly than necessary before taking another sip. 

“One of their snitches turned. They walked into some sketchy bar, pretending to be street kids looking for a fix. The guys there were expecting them.” He continued to scrutinize his coffee, brow pinched. Eren extended a hesitant hand and rested it on Levi’s shoulder. “I was only a block away from the bar when the call came in. They were laid out on the floor, blood everywhere. There had been six guys waiting for them. Farlan and Isabel took four down with them. I took care of the other two.”

“You… you killed them.”

“Yeah, I did. They were half-crazed from watching their friends die. They started shooting as soon as they saw me. I was lucky they were so desperate or they probably would’ve hit me. I dodged a few bullets and blew their fucking brains out.” His eyes slid to the side to find Eren, to gauge his reaction. 

“They deserved it,” Eren murmured, looking back at the picture. The woman, Isabel, was so bright, so innocent. “They had it coming for what they did. The world’s better without monsters like them.”

Levi exhaled, the rigid line of his posture softening as he wrapped an arm around Eren. “That’s why I quit. Every day I put on that fucking uniform I thought about them. Everyone on my shift thought I was some kind of fucking hero because I’d killed someone. They just didn’t get it.”

“I’m sorry,” said Eren, leaning into him. “I’m sorry that happened. It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, kid. I never got over it, but I moved on.” He stretched over to put his mug on the nightstand before enfolding Eren in his arms and pulling him into a solid embrace. “That’s why I didn’t want you to go back to the PD. I was afraid. Fuck, I’m still afraid. I can’t lose anyone else, especially not you.”

Eren pulled back just enough to peer up at him. “If you don’t want me to go back--”

“Shut up,” Levi muttered, cutting him off. “You said yourself that job was your fucking life. You’re not going to throw it away for an old, bitter man like me.”

“I would do anything for you.”

Levi wrapped a hand around the back of Eren’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. “Then promise you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll come home every day.”

“I’ll always come home to you.” Eren rested his head on Levi’s shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. “I promise.” 

They sat that way for a while until Levi had to pry himself away and finish dressing for work. Eren retrieved his clothes from the floor and padded into the kitchen, pouring himself some coffee. He’d never been a fan, but if he dumped in enough cream and sugar he could almost convince himself that it didn’t taste like absolute shit.

“Next time I’m at the store I’ll buy chocolate milk,” said Levi. He tightened his tie and frowned at the mug in Eren’s hand. “That seems more your style, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” said Eren, the statement lacking any real heat. 

“You are to me.”

“So you fucked a kid last night?” said Eren. “You’re a creepy old man.”

The corner of Levi’s mouth twitched. He reached up to ruffle Eren’s hair as he stepped toward the coffee pot for a refill. “Doesn’t matter if I’m creepy. You’re legal. I probably should’ve checked your ID first, though,” said Levi. “That’s the responsible thing to do.”

Eren snorted. “I should probably check yours. There’s no way you’re almost forty.”

Levi just shrugged and sipped his coffee.

It had been hard for Eren to reconcile the fact that his boyfriend was seventeen years older than him. It was even more difficult for him to accept that Levi had actually killed someone. 

It should have bothered Eren, knowing he’d spent the night in a killer’s bed.

He frowned down at his full mug of coffee, trying to find some sort of negative feelings toward the revelation. 

There was nothing.

He glanced sideways at Levi, who was already looking at him with a raised brow.

“What’s wrong?”

Eren shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“You can still get out,” said Levi. “I won’t stop you. I won’t blame you, either. You can do better than an asshole with a history of violence.”

“Maybe I could,” said Eren, shrugging. “But I don’t want to.”

The doorbell chimed in on their conversation. Eren looked at Levi, wondering who he was expecting as such an ungodly hour of the morning, but he appeared just as bemused.

Eren leaned against the counter as Levi went to answer the door. Voices were audible, but Eren couldn’t discern any of the conversation. He just sipped his coffee and pretended to like it. 

Levi plodded back into the room. “It’s for you,” he said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder toward the door. He put his coffee mug in the sink and went into the bedroom, leaving Eren standing alone.

Baffled, Eren edged out of the kitchen and peered around the wall toward the front door.

Jean Kirschtein stood on the doormat, hands buried in his pockets, looking comically out of place.

Eren’s emotional reaction to that was more intense than his response to the news that his boyfriend had shot someone.

He noted, not for the first time, that there may have been an issue with his priorities.

His grip on his drink tightened as he crossed the distance to the front door. Jean pointedly kept his gaze averted until Eren stood directly in front of him.

“What?” said Eren.

“Overflowing with tact, as usual,” said Jean with a roll of his eyes. 

“What do you want?”

He expected another snarky reply but Jean just seemed uncomfortable. “I just need to talk to you for a minute. If that’s okay with you.”

“Umm… yeah, okay. Take your shoes off. If you track in Levi will probably kill you.”

It was only after the words left his lips that Eren realized what he’d said. He was glad Levi wasn’t in the room to overhear.

Eren expected Jean to argue, but he toed off his shoes on the mat with no complaint. The two of them quietly paced into the living room. Eren curled up on one end of the couch, cradling his coffee. Jean sat on the other end, clearly out of his element. Eren wanted to enjoy Jean’s discomfort but just couldn’t. 

“What?”

Jean’s eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but Eren.

“I heard you’re coming back to the PD.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to be on our shift again.”

“Yeah.”

Jean’s eyes finally found him, but it was only a moment before he tore his gaze away again. “You know they’re going to make you partner with me. That’s the spot that’s open.”

Eren swallowed a mouthful of coffee and tried not to grimace. “Yeah, I figured.”

“And you’re still going to do it?” said Jean. 

“Looks like it.” The conversation was creeping into dangerous territory. Of course Eren had considered his probable placement. He knew he would likely have to spend every single shift trapped in a car with Jean Kirschtein. Although some of his priorities were still skewed, he’d worked that one out. Doing the job and making himself happy was more important than the discomfort of spending hours at a time with Kirschtein. If he’d realized that to begin with and stood up for himself rather than being an easy target maybe the entire situation could have been avoided. “You have a problem with that?”

Jean shook his head quickly, as if trying to diffuse an argument that hadn’t even started. “No, that’s not… I mean, you’re good at the job, that’s not why… Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, brow furrowed. “Look, Jaeger. I don’t have a problem with you, alright? I want you to know that. I was stupid. Well, maybe worse than stupid, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have done any of that shit to you. I don’t have anything against you, and even though you hate me or whatever, which is fine, I don’t want it to affect the job. I tried to get Chief to put you with someone else because I know you don’t want to be paired up with me and he wouldn’t fucking listen. So I just wanted you to know that. I don’t want it to be any worse than it has to be.”

Eren just stared at him. The silence became somewhat uncomfortable before Eren said, “Was there an actual apology wrapped up in there? If so it was a shitty one.” Jean sighed, sagging under the weight of his words. “I know. I’m sorry, Jaeger. Really.”

“Did Marco make you come here?”

“No,” said Jean, the word snapping, “and you’d best not fucking tell him. He thinks everything is fine. He doesn’t know how bad it was. He’s too good of a person to realize just how fucking awful I am and I’d appreciate if you don’t point it out.”

“So what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Did you not hear me? I’m trying to not be a dick. It’s going to be hard enough for you to go back to this shit. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Holy shit. That really was an apology.”

Levi strolled into the room, eyeing the pair of them. “Alright, Kirschtein, get out of my house. I have to drop Eren off before I go to work and I’m already running short on time.”

“Chief said you still need to pick up your gear,” said Jean. He addressed Eren, not even responding to Levi’s command. “I’ll take you to get it if you want. It’s all down in storage, it’s going to take for-fucking-ever to find everything.”

For a long moment Eren just stared at him. Then he turned to look over his shoulder at Levi, whose face was even more expressionless than usual. 

“Why?” Eren finally said, confused by the offer. 

“Because we’re going to be partners, asshole,” said Jean. “I’m just trying to help you out. Do you want to or not?”

Eren looked at Levi again. This time his eyebrow twitched, just barely.

“Uh… okay, I guess,” said Eren, still watching his boyfriend for any indication of disapproval. There was nothing. “You’ll have to take me home after, though. I can’t walk back and carry everything.”

“Obviously.” Jean pushed himself off the couch and started toward the door. “Let’s go then.”

“You know this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

Jean stopped at the threshold of the living room. “I don’t expect you to,” he said. “I wouldn’t either.”

He kept walking and Eren turned toward Levi, who watched Jean through narrowed eyes.

“What are you thinking?” said Eren, his voice low. He uncurled himself from the couch cushion and shuffled closer. 

Levi shrugged. “I still don’t like him. I’d kind of like to hit him again.”

Eren’s mouth twitched with the curve of a smile. “I wouldn’t mind.” 


	43. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short, quick chapter. The next one is the last one!

“Check it out, this flashlight actually works!” Eren double tapped the button and the light flashed in a strobe pattern. “My last one was shit, you had to hold the button down the whole time or the light would go out. This one time we were out in a field looking for a guy who ran away from us and I dropped it and had to come back the next morning to find the damn thing. I’m going to put some reflective tape on this one, just in case.”

Levi just sat back on the couch and listened. Eren was talking too quickly for him to get a word in, anyway.

The two of them were in Mikasa’s apartment. Eren had plopped down in the middle of the living room floor. The gear scattered around the floor like gifts and the bright excitement in Eren’s eyes made Levi think of Christmas. 

There was over half a year left, but Levi realized that, for the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to Christmas. This time he’d have someone to spend it with.

Eren snatched up the collapsible baton on the floor and extended it with a flick of his wrist. He held it between his palms, eyeing it critically. 

“It needs to be oiled,” he noted, compressing it back down. He unfolded himself from his cramped position on the rug and stepped over the box that housed his boots. He hadn’t gotten a new pair since his old ones had still been in storage, but Eren hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact he’d been absolutely thrilled to have them back.

“I’ll have to clean my gun, too,” he said, grabbing the case off of the floor and transporting it to the living room. “It probably hasn’t been touched in months.”

He dived back into his piles of stuff for a gun cleaning kit. While he rifled around Levi relocated to the kitchen table, unlatching the case and eyeing the Glock inside.

“Found it!” Eren announced, skipping over to the table and dropping into a chair. Levi pulled one up as well. He propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, eyes on his boyfriend.

Eren took the Glock out of the case with a sense of reverence. He ejected the clip, pulled back the slide to make sure the chamber was empty, and then adjusted his grip to dismantle the pistol. 

After a moment of struggling he stopped, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “What the fuck?”

“Let me see,” said Levi. Eren offered him the gun without protest. Levi turned it over in his hands, examining the Glock closely. 

“I think this is my old gun,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb along a deep scratch that marred the side of the barrel. 

“Really?”

Levi nodded. He altered his grip and yanked, hard. The slide came unattached and he handed it back to Eren. “I dropped it down a set of basement stairs once. That’s where the scratch came from.”

Eren popped out the spring and reached for the cleaning kit. “You dropped your gun? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It was Isabel’s fault. We were searching an old house and a cockroach crawled across the wall an inch away from her face. She started flailing around and knocked it out of my hand.”

Levi wasn’t sure why Eren was looking at him so closely until he realized he was smiling a little. He wiped his face clean, redirecting his attention to the disassembled gun. “Want some help?”

Eren handed over the slide and a small-bristled brush. “You really cared about them. Isabel and Farlan. You didn’t just work with them.”

Levi shrugged, scrubbing at the slide with a little too much force. “They were my friends. I don’t have that many, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Sure you do. Hanji and Petra and Chief Smith are your friends.” He paused, gaze dropping to the grip of the pistol in his hand. “I’m your friend.”

Levi snorted. “I think we went a step beyond friendship when I shoved my dick in your ass.”

“We’re still friends!” Eren protested, his cheeks a little red. “You’re my best friend. Don’t tell Armin, though.”

A key rattled in the front door. They broke off the conversation as Mikasa stepped inside and came to an abrupt stop. “You’re here,” she said, her flat gaze on Levi.

“I am.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as he wants to be here,” said Eren, his glare daring her to complain.

Mikasa looked at the two of them for a long moment. “I’m going to Mike’s,” she said. A second later she was gone, the sound of her high heels clicking in the hallway beyond the door.

“I can leave,” said Levi, “if it’s a problem.”

“It’s not, don’t worry about it. She practically lives there now anyway.”

Levi leaned over the table and fitted the brush back into its designated spot. He sat back in his chair and watched Eren for a long moment. When he spoke his voice was low, deep. “You could just move in with me.”

Eren had been dripping oil into the dismantled gun. He froze, the bottle clutched tightly in his grip. “What?”

“You heard me. Do you want to or not?”

“Is that… Are you being serious?”

Levi’s stare was flat. “I don’t do jokes.”

“Right, I know.” Eren swallowed, eyes darting between the gun oil and the tabletop and Levi’s raised eyebrow. “Of course I want to. That would be great. It’s just that I don’t think I should. Not right now.”

“Okay then.”

“Wait.” Eren reached across the table and gripped Levi’s wrist as if afraid he would disappear. Levi felt the slide of oil beneath the skin contact. The smell was nostalgic, relaxing. “Don’t think I don’t want to, okay? Because I really, really do. I think it would be great. But I think Mikasa will officially move out soon, especially now that I’m working again, and I kind of want to be here on my own for a little bit first. To just… be on my own, you know? To prove that I can be.” His grip faltered and he sat back in his chair, visibly frustrated. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does,” said Levi. “You want to prove to yourself that you can make it on your own. If you move in with me right now you’ll always think you have to rely on me. Like you’re dependant on me. I get it. I don’t want you to feel that way, either.”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” said Eren, relieved that Levi could voice his feelings, even if Eren couldn’t do it himself. He hesitated before adding, uncertainly, “Are you mad?”

“Do I look mad?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell. A lot of your expressions look the same.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m not mad. I want you to do what you’re comfortable with.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“I get that, Eren. I’m not going to push you into it. Just know the offer is there. Let me know when you change your mind and I’ll make space for you.”

The corners of Eren’s mouth tilted upward into a rare smile. Levi couldn’t look away. The kid was fucking adorable. 

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Pay attention to what you’re doing, you missed a spot.”

“Does this bother you?” said Eren, disregarding the order. “Me going back to the PD, I mean. After what happened with your friends.”

Levi shrugged, trying to diminish the weight of the question. “I want you to be happy. This is what’s going to make you that way.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“No, it doesn’t bother me. It worries me, but I’m not bothered.”

Eren frowned and Levi wished he would smile again instead.

Eren pushed his chair back and stood, stepping around the table. He straddled Levi and plopped into his lap, wrapping his arms around Levi’s neck.

“There’s nothing to be worried about,” he said, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Levi slid his hands under the hem of Eren’s shirt and brushed his thumbs across the tan skin beneath. “You’d fucking better be. You get yourself hurt and I’ll kill you.”

He only caught a glimpse of Eren’s grin before his vision was obscured by a mess of brown hair. Eren trapped him in a kiss that was all warm lips and silken tongue. 

When Eren pulled back to breathe he traced his fingertips over Levi’s cheekbone, bright eyes flicking to Levi’s lips. “Nothing will happen. I’m like a bedbug. Those fuckers are impossible to get rid of.”

“Well feel free to crawl around in my bed anytime,” said Levi, reaching to the back of Eren’s neck and pulling him back down for another kiss. “Like tonight, for example. If you ever manage to get all your police shit sorted out.”

“I just need to iron out my uniforms,” said Eren, dipping his head to trail a line of kisses along Levi’s jaw. 

“What about that explosion that happened in the living room floor?” said Levi, leaning his head against the back of the chair as Eren moved to his throat. 

“I have a unique organization system,” Eren murmured. “It’s exactly where it needs to be.”

Levi moved his hands farther up Eren’s shirt, skimming the warm, smooth skin stretched over his shoulderblades. 

“Then iron your shit so we can go,” he said, leaning forward to nip at Eren’s bottom lip. “You keep this up and we’ll be fucking on the table. I don’t think your sister would appreciate it.”

“She’ll never know,” said Eren, pulling back to look at Levi slyly. “I bought some lube earlier while you were at work. You know, in case of emergencies.” He ground his hips against Levi’s, chewing lightly on his lower lip. 

Levi took a deep breath and tried to resist the surge of heat that rushed to his dick. It was a losing battle.

“Shit,” he said, yanking Eren’s shirt over his head without warning. “Go grab the lube. I'll clear off the fucking table.”


	44. Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is it.

The following evening Levi dropped Eren off at the police department after declaring him adorably badass, a compliment that made Eren scowl and blush simultaneously.

“I never had a thing for cops,” said Levi, overtly eyeing Eren’s pressed-to-perfection uniform, “but I think maybe you’re changing my mind.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Eren, trying to stay composed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is for you. I’ll buy you a celebratory cake. We’ll eat it at five a.m. when you get home.”

Eren’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of ‘home’, as if Levi considered his home to belong to Eren, too, even after he’d denied the offer to move in with him. It was a warm feeling.

“I don’t need cake,” said Eren. “I’m already in awful shape. What I need is to start working out with you and stop eating shit food.”

“We’ll go to the gym this weekend, then,” said Levi. “You’d better fucking eat, though. If you start skipping out on food I swear I’ll shove the fucking cake down your throat.”

Eren raised his eyebrows, mouth twitching.

“Perverted little brat,” said Levi, rolling his eyes.

The quiet lasted for a long moment. Levi glanced at the time and then at Eren, who was staring out the window.

“It’ll be fine,” said Levi when it became clear that Eren was avoiding the moment that he would have to get out of the car. “It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just a little nerve-wracking, you know?”

“There’s nothing to worry about. If they say anything to you just give them a little jolt.” He reached over to tap a finger on the taser attached to Eren’s duty belt. “Or just deflect the attention to Jean. He’s an easier target now.”

Levi had parked across the street from the PD. As they sat stationary, a sleek police cruiser pulled into the parking lot. When Reiner got out of the car and noticed the Lexus he waved with a wide grin before flinging open the door of the building and stepping inside.

“It will be fine,” Levi repeated sternly. “If it’s not, call me. I’ll take care of it.”

“I can handle it.” 

“I know. If you need me to pick you up in the morning, call me.”

“I’ll get Jean to drop me off,” said Eren. “I’m not worried about that.”

“But you’re worried about everything else and there’s no need to be. It’s fine. Now get your ass out of my car and go do some work for once.”

“Alright,” grumbled Eren, reluctantly pushing the car door open. 

Before he could step out Levi seized his arm, making him pause.

“Just be careful, alright?” said Levi. “Promise me.”

“Yeah, I promise. I’m always careful. During training my officer safety scores were almost perfect.”

“That doesn’t make you invincible,” said Levi, his voice low. “Just stay safe.”

Eren’s mind flashed to the two smiling faces by Levi’s bedside. 

“I will. I promised you I’ll always come home and I will.”

His boots hit the pavement and he hauled himself to his feet, still getting used to the extra weight of his gear. It added about twenty pounds and it was going to take a little time for his muscles to get used to it again. The weekend workout couldn’t come soon enough.

He glanced up and down the street before crossing. He was almost to the door when the Lexus pulled up beside him and the window on the driver’s side rolled down.

“Tell Kirschtein that if he lets you get hurt I’ll fucking kill him.”

“I’ll be fine, Levi!”

“You’d fucking better be. I love you, brat.”

It took a moment for the words to register, and by the time Eren had realized what had been said Levi had already driven away, the taillights of his car flaring at the corner of the block. Eren stared after him, openmouthed, wondering if he’d misheard, although he was certain that he hadn’t.

He walked into the roll call room with a smile on his face and a feeling of warm contentment in his chest. He returned the greetings that the shift offered him and sat at the back table beside Jean, who had already started drinking coffee.

“Wipe that stupid smile off your face,” said Jean, taking a slurp of his drink. “You’re doing all the work for the rest of the month. You’ve got time to make up for.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

A few minutes later the sergeant strolled into the room just long enough to confirm that everyone had shown up. He didn’t spare a second glance at Eren. The officers were directed to their respective zones and dismissed. Annie took the time to slap Eren on the shoulder and wager that she could outclass him in call volume. 

Jean waited until the rest of them had left the room before he dug into his pocket and tossed a keyring at Eren’s head. “Here, I guess you’re driving the Charger again. If you scratch it I’ll kill you.”

“Shut up. You’re the one who backed into that fucking Mercedes and busted out the taillight that one time.”

“It was dark, you asshole. That car was black. I couldn’t fucking see it.”

“Then I’m glad I’m driving tonight since you can’t see a full-sized sedan before plowing into it.”

“You’re full of shit.”

The banter was comforting, lacking the hard edge of spite that Eren had been prey to the last time he’d worked a shift. This was familiar. It had been the basis of their initial friendship when Eren had first started the job. He and Jean had been able to exchange jabs and insults and criticism and never take each other seriously. Until Eren had told Jean too much about himself and given him the ammunition for some real belittlement. 

Having Jean give him a genuine apology the day before hadn’t hurt, either. It was different than the fabricated one he’d spun at the bar when Marco was watching. Nothing about that had been real. Despite the smoother waters, he still couldn’t think of Jean independently of the months of hell he’d just been through.

Eren only thought on it for a moment before pointedly dismissing it. He couldn’t let himself dwell on it. It was over. Jean was still an asshole, and Eren wasn’t sure if he’d ever really forgive him, but hanging on to it now wouldn’t get him anywhere. It would only make things more miserable. He’d gotten what he wanted, and he’d be damned if he let Jean Kirschtein ruin any more of his life.

When they made it out to the car Eren claimed the driver’s seat, staring at the achingly familiar setup. Jean still had the sirens set to that irritating wail instead of the default signal. Eren wanted to change it back before he had to use the lights and sirens but decided he would do it when Jean wasn’t paying attention. Eren reached up and pressed a hand against the badge on his chest, confirming that it was actually there, before starting the car. 

“You’re still listening to this?” asked Eren, pulling a face as he reached to change the radio. “This is shit.”

“It’s my car, asshat.”

“Driver chooses, cocksucker.”

“Shut the fuck up. If there’s a cocksucker in this car, it’s you.”

Eren would have winced from the insult if it hadn’t been lacking the heat of a true taunt. It was simple for him to shrug it off and return it in kind. 

“What the fuck ever, as if you’ve never had Marco’s dick in your mouth.”

He waited for a snappy comeback but Jean didn’t offer a response. Eren tried to suppress the smug smile that pulled at the edge of his lips.

“Speaking of,” he said, “How is Marco?” 

“He’s fine.”

“What’s he doing now?” said Eren. 

“He just put in an application for grad school at the university,” said Jean, the sharp planes of his face softening as his mind strayed to his ex-partner. “He wants to get a Ph.d. in Criminology and teach. He’ll be great at it. He’s fucking brilliant, he just sucks at applying shit in real-life situations.”

Eren watched Jean carefully as he spoke. When he’d finished, Eren said, “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

“What?” snapped Jean, brow furrowing. “The fuck do you mean?”

“You love the shit out of him,” said Eren. “It’s obvious. Have you told him?”

“No! It’s none of your business, Jaeger. Are we working or are we just going to sit in this fucking parking lot all day?”

“You should tell him,” said Eren. He shifted the car into reverse and slid out of the space. He glanced at Jean as he pulled onto the road, already comfortable with the steering wheel sliding beneath his fingers. “I saw the way he looked at you at Annie’s. The poor idiot loves you back. God knows why, you’re a fucking horse-faced asshole.” 

“Mind your own business, Jaeger.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Before they made it two blocks away from the PD the voice of a dispatcher filtered through the speaker. “108, headquarters.”

Eren reached for the radio without having to look at it. “108.”

“Priority three: Ten-fifty-nine reported at the library downtown, in the back parking lot. Four male subjects, further description unknown. Currently in progress. The caller advised that the subjects may have knives.”

“Ten-four, en route, ETA three minutes,” said Eren, latching the radio back onto the rearview mirror. He shared a look with Jean that reflected the same vicious anticipation that he felt. 

“Let’s go fuck some shit up,” said Jean, his grin wicked.

Eren activated the lights and sirens, wincing at the annoying squeal that Jean had programmed for the siren. He drove with cautious abandon, traffic parting and leaving a clear path for him to slide through. 

It was what Eren had always wanted, only better. Because he knew at the end of the night, when his shift was over, there would be someone waiting on him. He had his career, but he also had someone who would share his days off. He could spend his time protecting the city, but at the same time he knew there was someone who would protect him, too. 

Someone who loved him.

Eren wanted to be a police officer so he could help people. He wanted to make a difference. 

Just like Levi had made all the difference for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a minute to say thanks to everyone who stuck it out to the end. I adore every one of you, and all of the kudos/comments that you left or will leave are unbelievably appreciated. I've received more feedback than I expected and I'm just pleased that there are people scattered around the world who enjoyed my fic. You're all wonderful.
> 
> If you feel that you're now experiencing a void in your life in the shape of a Police!AU, I just started my new fic, [Monochrome](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5153213/chapters/11865692). You may like it and you may not; it seems that it's going to be a little controversial.
> 
> Again, thank you all! ^^


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